Groundling 4: Transitions
by ardavenport
Summary: Onie Thatcher's Ground Gift is still giving her trouble, but a new Herald arrives who might help. Onie learns more about her friends and meets new ones.
1. Chapter 1

**GROUNDLING 4: TRANSITIONS**

by ardavenport

 **\- - - Part 1**

* * *

Onie panted hard as she ran around the last corner of the fighting salle building. All the others in the class had disappeared around it already. She was the last. Her side hurt, her head hurt, the pains throbbing with the beat of her feet slamming down onto the packed earth. She put on as much of a burst of speed as she could muster, but she actually felt like she was running slower. She made sure that she passed Captain Kerowyn's invisible finish line before throwing herself down onto the cold ground, gasping for air.

The handle of the wooded bucket she carried thunked and clanked as it dropped beside her. But the nausea was already passing.

Kerowyn had her arms folded over her leather-armored chest. "Do you need the bucket?"

Onie pushed herself up just enough to shake her head and fall back down onto the icy yellowed grass, pounded flat by many students.

"Good. We'll have you up to three laps in no time. All right the rest of you, get going! Nothing to see here!" she shouted to the stragglers who had stopped to look and they hurried on. Rolling onto her side, Onie hugged the ground for only a few more gasps before getting up and crawling to the side of the building to get out of the trampling path of the others students when they came around the building again. Then she went down on her belly. She recovered faster when she lay flat on the ground. She was sure that Healer Luba would be intrigued by that. But, of course, Onie had not told any of the Healers what she was doing. She supposed they would find out, but hopefully not until she got better at all the things that she had to take her feet off the ground for.

She had not spoken to Captain Kerowyn or Alberich, either. She had just come into fighting class one day and instead of skipping the running exercise around the salle, she joined the others, ran as far as she could until she fell down and vomited into the bushes. Kerowyn said nothing. But for the next class she handed Onie a bucket to run with and told her to use it and take it out to the midden to empty after class; the palace gardeners had complained. Several days later, after Onie could manage one lap around the salle building, she told Onie to only run as far as she could without retching, though she still had Onie run with the bucket. Kerowyn made no comment other than what looked like an appreciative smirk.

It was horrible, but Onie could feel the incremental improvement as she ran a little farther each day. The sickness was not going away, she just seemed to be building up a tolerance for it, lengthening the time she could run or jump or ride before her body rebelled, dizziness and nausea felling her. Lillis did not like it, but she cooperated, galloping with her Chosen on her back, Onie leaning forward with eyes focused on the ground in front of them. Even on her own Companion she would never be a good rider, but she was determined to be at least adequate. The steady pounding of hooves on frozen ground throbbed inside her head when Lillis ran, but if she breathed deeply and kept her eyes on the horizon, she could imagine herself riding over the pain, as if it was a separate thing from her. She did the same thing for her running. Holding the pain away from her was an internal balancing act that she was slowly getting better at. And as an added side-effect, Onie's stair climbing had improved greatly. She could now spend a whole candlemark in the library on the third floor of the Collegium, though the first time she did it, she had brought an oiled bag concealed between her books, so she would have something to contain her nausea if she needed it. She couldn't study or concentrate on much beyond not being sick up there, but she could now look up and retrieve her own books for her classes and no longer needed to get them from the first floor Palace library.

Hearing the rest of the weapons class pounding toward her, Onie pushed herself up off the cold ground. Even with snow on it, she felt better for lying on the earth after running. She got up and followed them all inside. They were doing hand-to-hand fighting without weapons. Captain Kerowyn could not only make any object into a fighting instrument, Onie was quite sure that she could kill anyone with any part of her body. This class was devoted to the deadly capabilities of elbows and knees. The class paired off and alternated who wore the padding.

Midway through the class, Bronner Childorn strolled in and took over as Onie's Trainee partner. The former merchant-now-Herald to whom Onie had been assigned as secretary had made it a semi-regular habit to join her fighting classes. After years of riding with and sometimes defending trade caravans of valuable goods through Valdemar and many other lands, he already had decades-worth of fighting experience. Not long after he had assumed his duties as Herald-advisor to the Queen, he had presented himself to both Kerowyn and Albericht and been pronounced adequate with a sword and staff; high praise for the demanding Weapons masters. But his bowmanship was lacking and his knife throwing skills were even worse, so he showed up for practice and instruction at least every few days.

Her duties as his 'secretary' were so far extraordinarily light, since both of them were still working out exactly what her position was, except that Childorn had pronounced Onie's Ground Gift to be useful and the Queen had put them together. They spent more time training together or studying than doing any work for the Crown. Valdemaran law was the one class that Childorn was required to take at the Collegium.

Onie aimed an elbow at Bron's helmeted head, missed and ended up falling forward, body spread out on a mat. Half a second later, he put his weight on her legs.

"Aye!"

"Well, don't just lay there when you go down!"

Onie twisted around enough to make him lose his balance. Bron rolled away and quickly brought his arms up. She glared at him and he dropped his arms.

"Your reactions are pathetic." Grunting, he climbed to his feet. He often complained about not being young anymore, but he seemed to make up for his age and lack of speed with experience. "Don't just stop every time you take a hit. The fight isn't going to wait for you to figure out your next move."

Onie got to her feet as well. How was she supposed to hit back when she didn't know where she was hitting? Everyone said that she had to train to act on reflex, but she hadn't worked out exactly what that was. When Kerowyn responded to a hit, it was lightning fast, accurate and you could feel it though leather and padding, the blow almost going through her whole body. How did she do that?

Thankfully, the bell rang and class ended. They gave their equipment to a couple of older Herald-Trainees whose chore that day was to clean and put it all away; then they all trudged outside, most to the Collegium, but Onie headed for the stables to meet Lillis.

Bron strolled with her, their feet crunching together on the path swept clear of the light dusting of snow from the day before.

"Still punishing yourself, I see."

"Aye. I s'pose ye could call it that. But I still gots ridin' ta do."

"Is the galloping going any better than it looks?" Bron generally attended the same riding practices she did. Onie frowned back at him.

"Gettin' better, I thinks."

Bron's lip curled into a crooked and knowing grin. He had heard the doubt in Onie's voice.

Arriving at Companion's stable, Bron met his own Companion. Hyer, whose first Chosen had died many years ago; after that he had spent most of that time as a gloomy recluse in the groves of Companion's Field. Now that he had Chosen Childorn, he took his comforts seriously in a warm stable when there was snow on the ground.

Onie was had taken down a work saddle and was walking with it when Lillis came in. Her cheerful trot stumbled to a halt, her head and ears going up.

Bron started laughing.

Onie looked from him to her Companion. She had clearly read the meaning that Lillis now obviously wished she could take back.

Riding again? At least let the bruises heal.

Bron was now bent over, he was laughing so hard; Hyer was snuffling along with him in the closest thing to a laugh that Onie had ever heard from any Companion.

Onie dropped the saddle on the hay strewn ground.

Going to Lillis, she pulled up her head and looked hard into her sapphire blue eyes.

"Ye ought ta tell me when I'm na doin' well. 'Spec'ly if it's hurtin' ye."

Lillis flicked her ears back, that it wasn't really that bad. But Onie slowly shook her head. She went back and picked up the saddle. A few grooms passed by, looking a little concerned about Bron who was now sitting on the ground with tears running down his eyes. Head down, Hyer leaned his forehead on Bron's side, his eyes closed.

Onie returned the saddle to the tack room. Going back to Bron and Hyer, she stood over them, hands on her hips, until Bron wiped his eyes and looked up.

"Tisn't tha' funny. Ye hurts Lillis's feelins, too."

Childorn climbed to his feet and swayed like a drunkard, a big grin under his bristly mustache and hook nose. Hyer snorted and shook his head. The matching blue eyes of Companion and Chosen shone with glee.

"It was funny and you," he whirled, pointing at Lillis who lifted her head in surprise. "Don't get your feelings hurt about saying the truth." His finger went to Onie. "You might be better at running and climbing now - - though throwing up less is a pretty low standard - - but your riding is as bad as ever. Oh, you're adequate at a walk and a trot, but as soon as Lillis gets her feet off the ground, you look like a sack of grain with a head on it."

Onie folded her arms over her chest and glared back. "Well, I'd be happy ta hear ye suggestions 'bout what ta do or hows ta fix it."

Bron threw his hands up. "I don't know. I didn't think it was possible for anyone to ride a Companion as bad as you do. Have you thought about instead of beating yourselves up, maybe you should ask those Mages who are so interested in your Ground Gift what the problem is? Or maybe any of the other Companions?"

She stared back. She had not thought about asking any of the Mages for help. Why? They always just walked away in disbelief when none of their tricks worked on her. Why would they have any better ideas than her riding instructors? But the other Companions . . . ?

Lillis stared, wide-eyed toward Hyer, but a moment later her eyes narrowed crossly and she stamped a hoof.

"Aye, tha rest'o tha herd don' know na more 'bout me riding than we do. Why'd they na say it ta Lillis afore now?"

He leaned forward. "Because they were waiting for her to ask." Straightening, he folded his own arms over his chest. "Wisdom isn't just knowing things. It's knowing when you don't know something and when you need to ask for help. And Lillis is one of the youngest Companions to Choose in a long time; it's past time for both of you to learn that lesson now."

Onie glared back, her temper rising. She hardly felt it was Bron's business to be talking down to her now, especially after all the riding classes they both attended, but . . . . she really had not thought about asking for any help from the Mages. Or the Companions.

"Hmmm." She went to Lillis. "Well, maybe wees has'ta think 'bout what's we needs ta ask first." They both turned toward the stable door.

"Well, after you're done with that, maybe you can join me after midday meal in the Council Chambers?

Onie looked back. "Aye?"

"There's some kind of meeting this afternoon about the kingdom's accounts. Maybe you can let me know if anyone's lying."

"Ye think they'd be lying ta tha Queen 'bout'er accounts?"

"It's money. Everybody lies about money," he stated, his face going serious for a second before he sighed. "No, I don't. But apparently the Kingdom settles its accounts in the winter like everyone else when we're all inside and snowed in. It takes a little time to do a whole Kingdom, so they do some before Winter Festival and finish it after. I have been reliably promised many candlemarks of pure boredom. I thought I'd invite you to come as my secretary."

She shrugged back. "I should be there by firs' bell after tha meal?"

He nodded. "That'll do."

She nodded back and left with Lillis. Their steps crunched on the hard packed ground, Lillis's steps accented with a very soft chime from her hooves. The sky was gray, the clouds low, the air crisp and very clean without even the usual hint of a wood fire from the Palace or the rest of Haven. It looked like there would be more snow, but presumably not heavy, or the Foreseers would have sent out a warning.

Lillis paused at the bridge to Companion's Field and turned a blue-eyed inquiry to Onie.

"I can cross tha bridge," Onie replied shortly and strode forward. The threats of vertigo and nausea were still there, especially halfway across, but keeping her bespectacled eyes forward on the promise of the solid snowy ground ahead always helped. When they were across, they went to their usual place by the fence facing the Palace grounds, the snowy paths trodden gray by many footsteps.

"Me ridin' isna gettin' any better, is'it?"

Lillis sadly nodded an affirmative.

"Ye don' needs ta be embarrassed 'bout it. I'm tha one who canna ride."

Lillis shook her mane with a Companion's pride. Onie did not feel up to arguing. Her thoughts had gone to her new task. Who should she ask for help?

The Mages? Ever since the disaster with the Hawkbrother Mage Sunwing who tested her Ground Gift with a talisman that got him banished from Valdemar by a decree from the Queen herself, none of the other foreign Mages had come near her, as if Sunwing's punishment might be contagious. Princess Elspeth and her Hawkbrother husband, Darkwind, were the senior Mages, but they seemed to have given up on or gotten bored with trying to sort out her Ground Gift. Onie had not seen either for a fortnight. None of the Herald-Mages who were being trained were anywhere near their level.

The Companions?

"Hyer may na know everythin'. Ye don' think ye's could ask Gwena if she has some ideas wha' we could do ta be ridin' better?"

Lillis perked her ears up in affirmation. Then her gaze drifted, a sure sign of Mind-Speaking.

Onie pondered another possibility while Lillis was busy. The Healers? She had been avoiding Healer Luba because she was exerting herself to point of vomiting in weapons class and she was sure that the normally cheerful Healer would not approve. She sighed and supposed it was time to talk to Luba about and her bad riding.

Lillis's sapphire eyes blinked and drooped. Onie sighed again. The other Companions did not know how to help her riding. That was not a good answer. Who knew more about riding than the Companions?

"Well, if I'us gots ta ask fer help, I guess I needs ta start."

Lillis nudged her hard with her nose and pranced back.

"Okay, 'we' gots ta ask. But I donna know wha' tha griffins would know 'bout ridin'." Lillis could Mindspeak to them and any of the other non-human Mages, but she doubted that they could know any more about how to fix her riding problem than the Companions. "I gots enough time ta see Luba afore midday meal; if she's at tha House'a'Healin' taday."

Lillis took Onie back over the bridge bareback - it was quicker than walking - and then they parted.

There were a couple of other people waiting, sitting on a plain bench by the white-washed wall of the entryway of the House of Healing. One of them was coughing a lot. Onie stood away from them. She usually did not get sick in the cold season, but when people came to the House of Healing at the Collegium it was often because they had something very bad and she knew well enough to stay away from it. A Healer Trainee came out and ushered them inside. Another Trainee assumed a position at the desk and Onie asked if she could see Healer Luba. The Trainee admitted that she was in, but engaged with a patient and his dismissive tone told Onie that he did not think she should interrupt, but he took her message inside anyway.

So, it was a great surprise that he returned almost immediately to escort her in to see Luba. Going to the below-ground level, he took her to a small room. Luba was inside with an older male Healer. And Chellie.

"Aye?" Onie exclaimed as Chellie ran to throw her arms around her.

"Please, Onie, please tell them to cut me, Onie! I'll die if they don't!" she cried into Onie's chest.

Stunned, Onie limply patted Chellie's back. Onie had been made the guardian of the girl, formerly the second heir of Lord Drogon, to keep her safe from being forced to participate in a cruel ritual to restore her misplaced manhood or die trying. She looked toward the two Healers.

"Aye?" she asked again.

Luba stood with an expression of sadness that was meant for patients she could not heal. "Chellie, I'm sorry, but Healer Uratus and I agree. It would be barbaric to do that to you now, especially since you're so young. It's much too soon to make that decision. Once it's done, it's done. It can't be taken back."

"But the herbs aren't working!" She tore herself away from Onie. "I don't want to change! It's the only way to stop it! You have to stop it!" Her voice cracked and she covered her mouth with both hands. Then she cried, eyes squeezed shut.

Onie finally pieced together what they were talking about. The subject had come up before, when Chellie first renounced herself as a boy. "Ye gots stronger herbs for'er?"

"We do," Luba affirmed, going to her tearful patient. "We have to try them first, no matter what we do."

Chellie pulled back from the attempted hug. "I don't want to lose this," she grabbed the front of her blue dress, clutching it desperately. "I can't lose this," she sobbed.

"You won't," Luba told her. "Uratus, please, get Sendrick for me. And Healer Ingress if she's free." She named one of the herbalists at the Collegium. The man curtly nodded and left, brushing past Onie on his way out. Chellie finally let Luba embrace and comfort her. "But the herbs we'll be using are very strong. You will have to stay with us for a few days, to make sure things go right." Chellie nodded into Luba's ample chest.

Feeling quite useless, Onie stood there. Chellie's condition was completely outside of her experience. She was happy to help her escape her relatives, but she did not know what else she could do. Chellie had quieted down by the time Ingress, the Mind Healer, and Sendrick arrived together.

After some more assurances, Luba left Chellie with them. She took Onie out with her.

"I knew she was after ye's ta geld'er, but I didna knows she come back fer it. Tha herbs ye give'er na workin' then?"

"They're working; she's just over-reacting." Luba let out her pent-up frustration as they climbed the stairs to the ground level. "She does not listen when I tell her that both men and women grow hair in certain places when they grow up. I wanted Healer Uratus to explain to her exactly what he would have to do for that kind of surgery; I hoped it would discourage her, but she just wanted it more." She shook her head. "I don't understand it. What if she meets someone when she's older? What if she wants to have a family? She won't be able to take it back later when it matters."

Together, they stood in a whitewashed hallway of the House of Healing. "You have to talk to her. Have Lady Delias talk to her. Forbid her from doing it, if you must."

"Aye? Me? Don' see how I has a say in'it."

Luba gave her a stern look. "You are her guardian, Onie Thatcher, until she's reached sixteen years at least. She has to get your permission. What did you think being a guardian meant when you agreed to it?"

The angry demand from the normally mild and cheerful Luba startled Onie, but she did not like the accusation aimed at her either.

"I thought it meant Chellie wouldna hav'ta be dragged off ta a winter rite that was to make'er inta a man'er kill'er tryin'. Or ta keep'er from being beatin' up more by Lord Drogon's bullies."

Chin in the air, the stout Healer glared back, but then she relented. "Yes, of course, it means that, too. But it means a lot more now. Please, Onie, talk to her when we send her back home. Have Lady Delias talk to her; she of all people, would be able to make her understand what a terrible thing she wants to do."

"Why's that?"

Luba looked surprised. "You know the story about Lady Delias trying to claim her maid's son for her own."

"Aye. Tha Maid was me sister an' tha son is me nephew who grew up wit' me in me parents' house."

"Well, that's what desperate women do after they hold a baby in their arms and know they can't have children of their own. Delias was a Lord's only daughter who always got everything she wanted until then; but there aren't enough Healers and herbs in Valdemar that could get her body to carry a child and heir for her father. Chellie does not know what she's asking for, but maybe Delias can get her to think of her future."

"Was ye there when it all happened?" Onie asked, suddenly realizing that she had never thought about asking the other people who were there when her sister, Mec, was in Haven with Lady Delias when Sami was born. She did not know Delias well enough to ask about anything so personal, and her sister had stubbornly not talked about it for years.

Luba shook her head. "No. But I have talked to those who were there. Delias was ruined. Her father did not spare her any punishment. He took her back up north and rumor was that she was publicly whipped and spent 3 years locked up in a tower for what she did." Luba leaned close, her voice earnest. "In spite of her reputation, Delias does seem to care about Chellie; you have to talk to her about this. Will you be seeing her soon?"

"Aye." Onie nodded. "I goes over ta Munthunt House fa dinner wit'er an' Chellie ev'ry week and that's ta'night."

Good. And," she sighed, "you can tell her that Chellie is not just staying here because the herbs we'll be using will be strong. I don't want her doing herself any harm. Or running away and swearing herself to some goddess cult that won't ask her age and will do the deed in return for a life of service.

"Ye think she'd do tha'?"

"I have seen desperation, Onie, and so has Healer Ingress," she stated without answering the question. "It's best to be safe when you see it."

They walked together to the entryway. "Do ye needs me ta say anythin' ta Chellie?" Onie felt queasy about what she could possibly say to the girl about her choices, but it felt wrong not to offer, especially after Luba's reminder about her position. Being Chellie's guardian had been a convenience that had gotten her out of trouble with her family, but now it was becoming something more serious. Thankfully, Luba shook her head.

"I'll call if we need anything from you. I'll send a messenger to Lady Delias that Chellie will be with us for a few days. Just talk to her about Chellie. If both of you talk to her, she might see some sense and start thinking more about her future."

Onie agreed and they parted.

She was halfway back to the Collegium before she realized that she had completely forgotten to ask Luba if she might know of anything that would help her riding. Pushing her spectacles up, she looked back to the House of Healing and shook her head. She would ask about that later.

* * *

 **\- - - End Part 1**


	2. Chapter 2

**GROUNDLING 4: TRANSITIONS**

by ardavenport

 **\- - - Part 2**

* * *

Wearing fresh Grays, Onie met Bron Childorn at the Council chamber. There were a lot of people there. Servants in Palace livery, nobles in winter velvets, guild masters and other royal advisors.

The Council chamber (thankfully for Onie's sake, on the ground level of the Palace) was a high-ceilinged wood-paneled room with the large, round council table in the middle. In the heavy, high-backed wooden chairs around it, most of the Council was there along with the Queen. Bron led the way to chairs at one of the tables along the walls. There seemed to a lot of clerks seated at desks along another wall, fresh parchments, quills and ink pots at the ready.

Three candlemarks later, Onie sat stunned by the flood of details that she was witnessing; the amounts of gold, silver and copper collected in taxes for the year, not to mention the long lists of barter goods and their equivalent monetary values accepted by the tax collectors, whole rolls of long charts with precisely drawn tables with amounts, places, people, animals, events. Onie knew that her father paid their tax for their household to the town of Fair Fields and part of that went to Haven, but she knew nothing beyond that. Somewhere on those rolls of paper, she realized, her father's name might be neatly printed on a fine straight line, squeezed between their neighbors.

And then there were the expenditures. The costs of the Guards, embassies in neighboring countries, the Heralds, repairing and clearing the roads of snow, ice and flood wreckage, provisioning the Palace, paying for the servants and Guards, the Collegium, the Archives. Haven itself had its own roll of costs, street lights, street cleaners, City Guards, trash collection, courts, the middens, the parks, repairing the walls and city buildings, the river bank patrols, the docks on the Terilee, the groundskeepers for Companion's Field ….

Onie lost track of it very quickly. She remembered seeing the stores in the lowest level of the Herald's Collegium when she first arrived. But that was a mere anthill compared to the accountings of all of Valdemar.

The whole room groaned awake with a collective shifting of bodies and chairs when a page rang the candlemark and the Queen lifted a hand to stop the Seneschal's assistant reading from a very long list and called for a pause in the proceedings. After the Queen rose and left by the private royal entrance with the Prince-Consort and the Queen's Own Herald, most people stood and stretched. A few quick-walked toward the doors (and likely the privies). Bron stamped his feet and scowled.

Onie just wondered why she was even needed to witness this; Bron obviously did not want to be there. She asked him.

"Our sovereign is a sadist, a scheming vengeful woman in Whites," he grumbled over a goblet of watered wine before sighing. "I complained once too often, I think, about the Crown's taxes, especially on the guilds. I hate paying taxes.

Onie knew that well. It was one of his favorite complaints.

"And every time I do," Bron went on, "she asks me what kind of bandit losses I'd expect on caravans traveling on un-guarded roads. Or how well we'd do in the winter with no one to clear the snow." He took another swallow and sighed. "I'll grant, there's costs to run a kingdom, but there's some taxes that just show up when you don't expect them like another thieving bandit on the road."

Onie shrugged. She had no opinion at all about what tax the Crown demanded from merchants. Her father had always dutifully paid his few coppers every year and said it was his duty to do so. Not being head of a household, Onie had never paid any tax directly, but she always paid her part to her parents once she started earning her own coin as a tavern cook. The lords and clerks started milling back toward desks and chairs.

"Ye still needs me fer mor'o this? I's s'pose ta'be at Lady Delias's house fer dinner."

"Aaah, your weekly visit with your young … sibling?" He tilted his head. "I never really figured out how you two are related."

"Na by blood; jus' through me nephew. An' I'm jus' guardian til' Chellie's of age, ta keep Lord Drogon from comin' after'er."

The private door for the royals was still closed, but Onie knew they could appear any moment and then it would be harder to leave. "Ye needs me ta be'ere? I have na been doin' na secretary'in' fer this."

Bron's eyes gleamed with the clear idea that he might want her to share more of his pain, but he let it go almost immediately. "No. There really isn't any reason for both of us to suffer. But I'm coming to your room tomorrow with our last law assignment. I'm behind again."

She agreed and hustled out of the room. Just as the guard closed the council room door, she heard the collective shuffle of everyone standing for the sovereign. She had escaped, just in time.

Going back to the Collegium, she went down below to her room. There was the end of a folded parchment poking out of the flat wooden box attached to the wall next to her door. Eagerly, she took them out. Three letters from home. Finally!

Closing the door behind her, she put the letters on her desk and lit the lamp and took off her spectacles. It was still light outside, whitened by the snow on the ground, but the room's only window was small and high and there were always shadows. Sitting down, she turned them over. One from her mother. One from Brother Callus, one from her sister, Mec. Fretting over what they might say, she picked the most harmless-looking missive from Brother Callus.

# # # - # # # - # # # - # # # - # # # - # # #

Onie,

You've brightened this season with your letters. They bring back my own memories as an acolyte at the Trine's Temple in Haven. Do you mind if I read any of them to my students here at the Shrine? They still talk of how you were Chosen though it was last summer. The story does seem to get more grand with each telling and I try to correct them. Your Choosing is a blessing of the Goddesses. I know I am repeating myself, but I do not think I will ever tire of giving thanks.

Thank-you for speaking with Sister Nollen for me. I have written to her. I had not realized that she was still there. She was ancient to my young eyes when I was at the Temple there and I am pleased to hear that she is still active. She was strict, but always kind to us. She taught us how to scribe. Did you know that the Collegium and Palace allow the Temples to copy their books? I do not know if scribing is taught to Heralds, but it is a difficult, but very noble art.

You may not know how much you are missed here. It seemed to take a few moons for your family to adjust. And I do not think that Druin Axehead has been the same since. Sadly, I must report that he has been drinking again. Esie is very vexed about it and your sister is sometimes in the middle of their fighs. I have prayed and tried to convince Druin to come to my cottage and give offerings at the shrine, but he is unhappy and is unwilling to let go of it. I have spoken to Mec and she says that she can usually hide in the kitchen or in the yard when Esie and Druin fight. Druin usually leaves when Esie complains about him being drunk or driving the custumers away and I pray that he will find his old strength and stop.

I am sorry to end on such a sad tale, so I will say that the custom at the Ox and Cart has improved mostly through your sister's cooking. Mec tells everyone that she is only following your direction from what you have learned at the Collegium. Your sister is getting a very good reputation as a cook. Know that your direction has been given good use.

Blessings of the Trine,

Your most humble servant,

Callus

# # # - # # # - # # # - # # # - # # # - # # #

Onie pushed the letter aside. It was not that harmless after all. She already knew that Druin was drinking again from her nephew's letters. She liked Druin; he had been a fair boss, even when he was drunk, but drink was his demon; he loved it more than anyone should. It was why he had taken the money he earned as a mercenary and paid for the tavern. But now it was a curse for him to be so near it all the time. He had been off of it for a whole year before she was Chosen, but now he had fallen to it again.

Putting Callus's letter aside, she dithered over the remaining two and then finally snatched up the one from her mother and tore open the seal.

This was the harmless letter. The weather was cold, but there was not too much snow. One of the cats brought in a rat. Sami was helping her father clearing paths. Her father fixed two roofs but one homeowner was slow paying for the work. Her mother was trading seeds with the neighbors for next spring's garden. She was making a new shirt for Sami since he had nearly grown out of his old one. She and her father send their love.

Onie put this one on top of the first. Obviously, despite her promise in her last letter, Mec had not told their parents about Sami's father. Perhaps she had not found the right time? The disgrace of her fatherless son had diminished; the only people in Fair Fields who looked down on Mec now were mostly people that her parents did not think were worth knowing anyway. It seemed odd for Mec to wait.

Opening her sister's letter, Onie saw that it was surprisingly short.

# # # - # # # - # # # - # # # - # # # - # # #

Onie,

I have not told Ma and Pa about Sami's father yet. I should have; I do not think they will be angry; not after all this time. But I worry now that Pa might make something out of Sami's father being a Lord. Father might think that he will inherit some fortune, but I do not think that would be right. You said Kendron has other children who live on his lands and they should come first. I want to wait to tell Ma and Pa until I hear from Delias. Has she written? I have not gotten any letters from her.

All is well here. Ma and Pa send their love.

Mec

# # # - # # # - # # # - # # # - # # # - # # #

Onie scowled. Delias had been nearly in tears to read the letter Mec had sent though she refused to show anyone its contents. What was Delias waiting for to send one back? She should have written nearly a moon ago.

Putting the letter in the back corner where she kept her correspondence, Onie got up. She would ask when she arrived for dinner.

A half a candlemark later, Lillis trotted down Swoggot Lane to where it met Redleaf Street. A moment after Onie rang the bell at the gate, the house maid ran out to unbolt it and swing it wide to let them in. Lady Delias had employed only a cook and a maid for servants since arriving in Haven. The married couple employed by Drogon's previous representative in Haven, Tomis, had left with him.

Onie unsaddled Lillis at the house's small worn down stable. Its overall structure was sound but the roof leaked in one corner and the wall planks were unpainted gray, badly weathered, broken and missing in some places. There were only two stalls, but both were empty since Lady Delias did not have any horses and seemed to have no plans for obtaining any. The maid, a middle aged woman named Frena, offered water and dried apples to Lillis who accepted only the water. The woman was in awe of the Companion; she gazed with wonder every time they arrived and curtsied to both of them. She was not like any of the servants Onie had seen at the Palace, where there were servants for all sorts of specific tasks, messaging, cleaning rooms, cooking, moving furniture, bringing food, tending gardens. Frena seemed to do a little of everything, cleaning the house, sweeping the yard of the last fallen leaves of the season, helping the cook. She always wore the same plain brown work dress, a dark cloak if she was working outside and no fancy highborn colors, even when she greeted guests. She worked hard, but Onie did not think that she had been a servant for very long.

Frena also had a son, Reed, about the same age as Onie's nephew, who shared the same room with his mother in the attic; he helped out in the kitchen and yard. Nothing had been said, but Onie suspected that Reed was as fatherless as her nephew.

With Lillis properly taken care of, Frena preceded Onie to the house and opened the door for her.

"Onie, I'm so happy to see you." Lady Delias came down the entry hall, wiping her hands on a cloth. She wore a plain, gray dress, flattering on her slim figure, but it was more work dress than something a fine lady would wear. Her sleeves were pushed up past the elbows, revealing slender, but firmly muscled arms. Another unique thing about Munthunt house was that the Lady of the house shared in the chores of maintaining it. Chellie had said that everyone in Lord Drogon's household worked, but she had not expected that rule to extend to the privileged family. It was likely one reason why Lady Delias only had one maid and one cook.

Delias put the cloth aside, pushed her sleeves down and formally hugged her with as little physical contact as possible for an embrace. Onie returned it.

Delias was always polite but cautious with her on these visits, as if she did not really trust her. She was very protective of Chellie, but she sometimes acted as if they were competing for Chellie's attention. She asked casual questions as if she was fishing for information, especially about Mec and Sami, but acted as if she did not care what the answers might be. And she never really answered any personal questions about herself. She was both fearful and sly, but Onie had yet to puzzle out what about. Onie was equally guarded when she said anything about her sister and nephew.

"Ye gets tha message from Healer Luba 'bout Chellie stayin' at tha House'a'Healin'?"

Delias' formal smile fell from her face.

"Yes. I'm sorry she can't join us tonight. Healer Luba said that they were testing stronger herbs for her."

"Aye." Onie hoped that Delias would say or ask something, but she did not. "Healer Luba, she asks me ta talk ta ye 'bout how Chellie's doin'."

"Really?" They stood facing each other in the hall and Delias finally seemed to notice and she gestured for them to go into the sitting room in the front of the house. Like the rest of Munthunt House, it was remarkably simple compared to the usual expectations of a highborne's home.

Lord Drogon's man, who had stayed in the house before Delias, had not taken care of it and she was slowly having everything fixed. The worst had been the roof and a broken back window covered with oiled leather. Once the serious maintenance was done and the worn and broken furniture taken away, Delias then installed the minimum amount of replacements that each room needed. The tables and chairs were solid, blocky dark wood. The rugs were all single colors and the walls were hung with plain cloth to stifle drafts, not proper tapestries at all. The candleholders were plain wood and metal and there were no decorations, no vases, no mirrors, no coats of arms, no paintings, no displays of any kind. The rooms were spacious enough for a noble house, but they felt barren, as if they were just there to been seen, not lived in. Delias always seemed to be pleased with how simple and clean they were.

"What did Luba wish you to talk to me about?" she asked when she was seated in a chair and Onie had settled on a well-padded divan.

"Chellie's been after the Healers ta make'er inta as much of a woman as they can. She wants'em ta geld'er. An tha Healer's don' want ta do it. Say she's too young ta know what it means."

Delias's face turned sad. "Yes, she has . . . . talked about it. She's very . . . concerned. She's terrified of turning into her father or older brother. She's never been happier than she is now and she does not want to lose that."

"Seems a bit of a harsh thing ta do. Cutting off'er man-parts. Luba wants'er ta think about fathering children, if she meets a woman she wants a family wit'. Cause if tha Healer's do it, can't be un-done. Luba asked me ta talk ta ye," Onie paused, her mention of Delias's own childless state going unsaid, "that you might get'er ta see how serious it would be."

Delias frowned, her back stiffening. "I think it is Luba who does not understand how serious it actually is."

"Aye?"

"Without any herbs at all, and if she takes after Kendron and her father - and she very likely would - Chellie could expect to be more than a head taller and broader in the shoulder with a full beard and hair on her chest and back in three summers. And losing the hair on her head before she reaches twenty."

"Oh," Onie suddenly saw the reason for Chellie's desperate plea earlier in the day. "She wouldna like that." She doubted that any dress or primping could make the burly physique that Delias described feminine.

"And as far as children are concerned . . . . there aren't any herbs that the Healers have that could make Chellie - or me - bear a child. And I doubt she would ever want to sire a one on a woman the way a man does. If she wishes to mother a child at all."

"Don' think wees talked 'bout it afore." Onie thought back on the meals she had shared with Chellie and their occasional meetings around the Palace. Chellie had completely given up on her Collegium studies, but her seamstress apprenticeship with the hertasi couple who served the Tayledras Mages brought her to the Palace most days. Chellie was quite eager to acquire a skill that would enable her to never need to rely on her northern relatives again. That was the extent of Chellie's goals for her future that Onie knew of.

"Why did the Healers want you to talk to me about this?" Delias's tone turned accusing.

Sitting opposite her, Onie straightened. "On account I'm bein' guardian fer'er. Luba says I needs ta give permission fer'em ta geld'er. Thought you would get'er ta see sense 'bout what she's asking."

Delias brushed back a tendril of her long wavy red hair that had escaped the tie confining the rest of it. "The only sense I see is that if I were in her place, in a body that was turning into a man day by day and no one would help me, I would take a knife and do it myself. And leave it to the Healers to sew up the bleeding before I died."

Her tone made it absolutely clear that she meant it. The authority in her statement made it even more clear to Onie that Lady Delias knew how to do it, too. This was not the answer that Onie expected and she looked away first. It was getting dark outside, the winterized garden outside fading into gray.

"Have you talked to her about it?" Delias demanded. Of course, Onie had not.

"Have you?"

Delias puckered her lips. "Chellie has mentioned it to me, but . . . I did not give her an answer. You are right," she admitted, "it would be a desperate thing to do."

"Healer Luba thinks tha' Chellie is desperate. She says that's really why they want'ser ta stay at tha House-a-Healing tanight. Not just 'cause a tha new herbs."

"She said that?" Her face turned sad again. "All she wants is to be free. Free of being Kendron's little brother. Free of the body the gods cursed her with."

"How did ye find out?"

Delias looked back at Onie curiously.

"How did ye find out that Chellie was a girl? She tol' me that'er brother burned'er when she tol'im when she was jus' a little. An she didna tell na another person 'cause of it."

Delias smiled in remembrance. "I caught her trying on one of my gowns, twirling in my room when she should have been folding it and putting it away. She was terrified when she saw me; she was in tears. And then she was in tears when I told her I understood. I saw instantly how right it was." Her expression hardened as she looked back into the past. "I vowed on the Father Tree on my knees to her that I would never tell anyone else. And that I would use my position to get her away from Munthunt Hill as soon as I could. And I keep my vows," she added darkly before going on. "It was long past time I did anything of any worth. I was so happy when I got her sent to the Collegium. Haven is a much more forgiving place than Muntford for people like us. At worst, she could have run away."

"She was askin' 'bout Hawkbrothers when I meets'er first."

Delias nodded. "Yes, that was what we hoped could happen. That she could secure a place with them. They would understand. They are much freer of mind that most of Valdemar."

Onie's brow wrinkled. "Did ye think tha'tha Hawkbrothers could fix'er. Make'r inta a real girl?"

Delias looked up. "Did we . . . ? I don't know. I suppose . . . the stories about Mages turning men into women always sounded too fanciful to hope that they could be true. But I suppose . . . they could have better herbs than our Healers do." Her expression turned bitter. "They are so prideful about what they think they know."

Her face cleared. "Chellie said that you knew the Hawkbrothers. Could you ask them? If they have a better way than . . . cutting her?"

"Canna say I knows them too well. They jus' comes ta me wit' some of their magics tha' don' work on me and they goes away again. But I knows'em well enough ta ask."

"Thank-you," she answered with genuine gratitude. "Chellie told me that magic doesn't work on you. That that was your Gift."

Onie shrugged. "Don' feel like too much'uv'a Gift, but tha's what tha Mages say."

Delias asked more about her Ground Gift. She became noticeably less guarded, as if Chellie's dilemma had created a bridge that the other woman could cross. She actually answered questions about her home and parents; they were much as Chellie had described but there was a fondness in her telling which was surprising given how severe her father's attitude toward her and Chellie was.

When it was nearly dark outside, Frena came in to close the heavy curtains against the cold and kindled the fire in the fireplace. Delias was stingy with her firewood. She did not seem to mind the cold, but they both moved closer to the warmth. They could smell the cooking from the kitchen. It was nearly time for dinner.

"Ye hav'na written back ta, Mec yet, hav' ye?"

The question froze Delias's smile on her face. Immediately she became more distant again.

"Uh, what was that?"

"Have ye written back ta Mec, yet? Got a letter ta'day from'er sayin' she was waitin'. She wann'ed ta hear from ye afore tellin' Ma and Pa 'bout Kendron bein' Sami's Pa."

"Your parents. Mec's parents . . . " She put her hand to her chest as the words trailed off. "I - I know I should have written. But I just do not know what to say. I was so glad to hear that she and Sami were well after all this time. She didn't say anything about . . . "

Onie stayed silent, not willing to help her out. Delias would not show Mec's letter to anyone; Mec had not hinted about what she had written. So, Onie had nothing to contribute and she was feeling a little offended for the sake of her older sister who was left waiting.

"I'll write back, right away," Delias finally affirmed. Onie only shrugged back. She knew that Kendron Jestron, Lord Drogon's heir, was her nephew's father. And that Lady Delias had tried to claim him as her son after Mec, who was working as a maid in their household, bore him in secret and then fled to keep him. Mec had confessed to Onie in an earlier letter that she had stayed silent because she was terrified that Lord Drogon would come after her with his men and take him away. Wanting to start a new life in Haven, she had never told anyone where she came from. And when she returned back home with a baby and no husband, she said nothing about Sami's father to preserve his anonymity, just in case word somehow got back to the north. If anyone knew that Sami was the son of a high borne, people would talk for sure.

"Right away," Delias repeated to herself more than to Onie.

A bell rang and Onie heard Frena running to the door to open it. A new strain pulled at Delias's smile.

"Ah, Onie, I invited a few guests for our dinner tonight."

It was more than a few extra guests that Delias had invited; it was a whole family. Four noisy children and their parents. They fidgeted into a line long enough to give Lady Delias proper bows and curtsies under their mother's strict supervision, then they were set loose in another room to play. Delias introduced their parents.

"This is Korey Mineeladath. And Ludi Mornlor."

Ludi, the mother, curtsied. She was a stout woman with dark red hair with a touch of gray at the temples; her dark blue dress was made of fine, smooth cloth with a few simple embroidered embellishments, but it was worn in a few places. Korey stepped forward with a broad smile and a handshake. Onie took the offered hand and returned the firm squeeze before releasing it.

Korey seemed genuinely friendly with a broad smile, short, thick blond hair and blue eyes. And though he was tall and square in the body and wore the clothes of a man well, he was clearly, phsycially a woman. But not in the way that Cook Tamira was, big and doughy and round with indeterminate features. Korey was both strongly woman and man at the same time, though it seemed that she presented herself as a man. Ludi and Korey were obviously a couple and Korey was the 'father' to the four children. This was the sort of family that Onie only heard about in the Bards' songs back in her small home town. But since coming to Haven last summer she had seen a lot of things that she had once thought she would only hear about in stories.

Besides, Onie liked Korey and Ludi immediately. Korey gave Delias a big hug and she returned it with a real smile, a rare true expression from the cautious Lady. Onie followed as they went through the rooms on the first floor, this time Delias narrating a more animated version of how she was having everything fixed. She actually opened a door to a room that Onie had never seen before, a small library, with a large, paned window and more empty shelves than books. Korey and Ludi offered advice and compliments and Onie learned more about them. Korey had served with Kendron in the Guards up north. And Delias had first met Kendron when she was living in the northern Guard camp at the same time as Korey and Kendron. Now Korey had settled down to city life with Ludi and was a sergeant with the Haven City Guards.

"You didn't know how Kendron and Delias met?" Korey looked surprised.

Onie shrugged. "Never come up."

A bell rang from the back of the house.

"Dinner!" Delias announced. A group cheer followed from the children who rushed to the dining room.

The food at Munthunt House was always basic and plain. Meat, vegetables and roots, bitter herbs, coarse bread and butter. Water and the most watered-down wine. No desserts. Onie supposed the Healers would approve, but she was sure that she could do better with a wider range of spices and some dried fruits. The four children, hands and faces washed from a basin while their mother watched, needed extra warnings from their parents to finish their meals, which was obviously not what they were used to getting at home. But other than their lack of enthusiasm for the food, they seemed to be reasonably well-behaved though innocently inquisitive.

"Why can't Reed have dinner with us?" Drew, the youngest asked.

"Because he's helping his mother and Ressa in the kitchen, now eat your dinner," his mother warned.

Drew took a bite of the root on his fork and made a face. "Can't he do that after he has dinner with us?"

"No, his mother works for Lady Delias and it's not proper for her to eat with us. Now eat your food."

Korey had been looking around since he sat down at the table and finally asked, "Where's Chellie?"

"She's back with the Healers. They want to try different herbs on her."

"Is Chellie sick? Is she going to die?"

"Clora! Don't ask such demon-mouth things and eat your dinner!" This motherly admonishment seemed to finally get through and the children silently ate through Delias's explanation that Chellie was fine and would be home soon. Korey's eyes narrowed and he looked toward Onie and Delias before resuming his meal. It seemed likely that the Guard sergeant knew of Chellie's true condition.

It also seemed to Onie that Korey's state was very similar to Chellie's and opposite at the same time. He was female in body with a male attitude and Onie wondered if he was the right person for Chellie to get advice from. But she did not want to have to explain it to the four inquisitive children picking at their dinners with them.

Korey created the opportunity for a more private discussion about Chellie when he insisted on helping to clear the table before Frena came to do it. Delias jumped up to follow him with a few token dishes, leaving Ludi to herd the children to the front rooms. Onie picked up her plate and cup and went after them.

The dishes went on a side board; the kitchen was pleasantly warm from the cook fires and Delias did not seem to be stingy with heating water for the cleaning. Frena and Ressa only glanced their way before going back to their work, cook to the basin of cookware and dishes, maid to the dining room to collect the rest of the dishes. Reed was not with them, but he could have gone up the back stair to the attic.

Delias glanced her way as she passed through a doorway into another back room. When Onie joined them she saw that it was an herb-scented storage room lined with shelves of supplies and lit by a single lamp hanging on a hook. Delias and Koreys' faces looked especially grave in the shadowy lighting. Delias explained to Korey the full reason why Chellie was staying at the House of Healing.

He bowed his blonde head and listened, not speaking until Delias finished.

"So, Chellie wants to make her womanhood permanent?"

Delias nodded. "Yes. And Onie here said that the Healers thought she was desperate. That's the real reason why they want her to stay with them."

"And you have to give permission?" Korey's pale face was shadowed in the lamplight.

"Aye. Tha Healers been tryin' ta talk'er out'a it. But she jus' wants'it more."

Korey appraised them thoughtfully.

"Have either of you had a talk with Chellie about it? Not just leaving it to the Healers?"

Onie shook her head. "Didna know she wanted it this bad 'til taday. Thought she'd have more time on it."

"We've talked a bit." Delias answered. "She's constantly checking her body for signs. Fretting over every new hair. I've just been telling her to talk to the Healers. They know far more about what can be done than I."

He frowned at her. "I thought you had learned to listen better by now, Deel."

She gave him a cross glare. "I can't 'listen' to anything that she doesn't say - - -"

Korey held his hands up, "I did not come to argue. Chellie needs help. From the Healers and from you two. And I think you should start by having a long talk together."

"Why don't you talk to her? Her situation isn't that different from yours."

Korey's eyes glared back at Delias, but he kept his tone calm and level. "My situation is as different from hers as the sun is from the moon. But . . . " he lowered his eyes thoughtfully, " . . . we do have some things in common."

"It's a pity we can't get a Mage to switch your body with Chellie's," Delias suggested tartly, "that would solve a lot of problems."

"No, it would not. Not even in jest, Deel."

The angry tone in the City Guard's voice made Lady Delias back up a pace.

"Most magic is just illusion, especially now and even if they could do any of the old magics from before the Mage Storms I wouldn't trust it not to have a hidden price worse than what we start with."

Delias looked properly chastened. But talk of magic reminded Onie of something.

"We'as wonderin' if tha Hawkbrothers might'ave somethin' tha' could help Chellie. Better herbs ta kin keep'er from growin' inta a man?"

Korey shook his head. "The Healers and the Hawkbrothers have shared all their herblore as far as I know, but I suppose it won't hurt to ask. I'll talk to Chellie, but only with you two." He pointed at Onie. "You have to make the decision with Chellie. And you - -," she pointed to Delias, " - - have to help her and support her in whatever decision she makes. But it has to be soon. Tomorrow."

Onie winced. "I gots classes all day t'morrow, and chores in tha kitchen."

"You can take some time - - "

Korey cut off Delias again with a gesture. "I know what kind of schedule they put Hearld-Trainees on. When is the earliest you can you come by the House of Healing?"

"After I's help clean up after dinner."

Korey nodded. "I'll talk to the Healers. I think they can allow a late visit. Go to the House of Healing tomorrow night as soon as you can." He pointed at Delias. "We will talk to Chellie tomorrow morning. I'll come here and we'll go together."

Delias's blue eyes were stormy gray with defiance in the yellow lamp light, but she nodded, accepting Korey's commands.

* * *

 **\- - - End Part 2**


	3. Chapter 3

**GROUNDLING 4: TRANSITIONS**

by ardavenport

 **\- - - Part 3**

* * *

"Well, I hope it'll be worth the wait," Bron grumbled after Onie told him that she would be late for their study session that night where they would be parsing out whatever meaning they could from last week's class on Valdemaran law. Hyer and Lillis stood close enough together for their Chosen to converse at the end of equitation class.

"Do you know how late you'll be?"

Onie shrugged. "Don' know. Gots ta talk ta Chellie wi' Lady Delias and tha Healers 'bout Chellie's . . . girl problems."

Childorn grunted. Men generally did not ask for the details of 'girl problems'.

Capar ambled toward them, his small Chosen, Saston, looked at them curiously. "Is Chellie with the Healers again?"

"Aye. She's got girl problems."

"What are girl problems?"

Saston was too young to realize that 'girl problems' was something that most boys did not want to know about. Bron smirked at her as Onie paused to reply.

"S'same thing she's'ad afore, but tha Healers'uz givin'er stronger herbs, so theys wants ta watch'er close ta see how theyz work."

Saston looked unsatisfied, but did not ask about Chellie's condition again. "Can I visit her?"

Onie shrugged. "It's up ta tha Healers. Ye can ask."

He nodded somberly and they all headed for the stables and then a good wash. And mathematics class for Onie. She was at best, middle of the class, but she was at least making progress at memorizing number charts and she could understand the problems of counting and figuring supplies for trips and campaigns.

Bron surprised her later as she was cleaning up in the kitchen after dinner. Tamira, the Collegium's touchy cook gave him a cross look. She detested seeing anyone in the kitchen who did not explicitly belong there doing work for her. Bron looked over his hooked nose and graying mustache with cold blue eyes and she turned away from a confrontation she would lose to a full Herald in Whites. Onie did not think they had ever met before and she did not bother introducing them.

Wiping her hands on a cloth, she led him to the door of her room, opened it with her key and let him in. Bron carried a couple law books that he would read until she returned from her visit to Chellie in the House of Healing. There was no question of trust with him visiting and reading in her room. They were both Chosen, Herald and Hearld-Trainee and Onie had nothing that she minded Bron seeing. And it was far easier for him to wait and read there than for her to climb up to his modest, third-floor room in the Palace.

Onie's second surprise came when she found young Saston sitting in the anteroom of the House of Healing, wrapped in a thick gray cloak.

"Aye? Ye here ta see Chellie? Did tha Healers say ye could?"

"I saw her this afternoon." Saston hopped up off the bench to stand close. "She told me that you were going to let the Healers . . . He leaned closer, his voice going to a whisper. ". . . make her into a real girl."

Onie glanced toward the desk, but the Healer Trainee there had her nose in a book. "She tells ye that?"

Brown eyes large and solemn, Saston nodded.

"Ye knows she don' wants people ta know 'bout it."

Another solemn nod. "She said it was a secret." He swallowed. "I told her I wouldn't tell and . . . " his voice went back to a whisper. "I told her my secret."

Onie's brows lowered. "Aye? Ye has a secret?"

Nod.

"Ye wants ta tell me?"

Nod.

Onie waited.

"I told Dean Teren I was six years old when I first came."

"Aye. An ye birthing day was durin' Harvest festival. So, ye's seven now."

Eyes fixed on her, Saston pressed his lips together. "My uncle told me to tell people that, if they asked. Or he'd hit me."

"Ye's na seven?"

He shook his head slowly, carefully.

"How old is ye, then?"

"I'm only a few moons younger than Barro."

Barro was his cousin, his uncle's son, who had quit his parents' abusive household to work as a stable boy at the Palace. His uncle had flouted the Queen's edict that all children in Valdemar learn letters and figuring, barely allowing any education for his only child, but Barro was catching up quickly with lessons at a local temple.

Barro was ten.

"Aye?!"

The Healer-Trainee looked up from her book. Saston's whole body went stiff, but he did not back down, a small soldier at nervous attention. Onie looked back at the Healer-Trainee until she returned to her reading.

Saston was small for a child of seven. Onie knew his size was abnormal in a bad way for a child of nine. Or did he turn ten at harvest festival?

Saston nodded when she quietly asked.

"Does Capar know?"

Saston lowered his gaze. Unlike adult Mind-Speakers, who just lost focus when they spoke to their Companions, Saston always looked like he was really concentrating on it.

He lifted his brows and looked up. "He knows now," he admitted guiltily. "But . . . I don't think he needed me to tell him."

"Well," Onie sighed, "ye gots ta tell Dean Teren."

Saston's shoulders hunched and his head ducked lower as if he expected to be hit.

"Ye wants me ta come wit' ye?"

He nodded.

"Well, if we eats quick in tha mornin', an tha others do tha dishwashin', we can go ta tha Dean's office ta talk ta'im afore me firs' class."

He nodded again, a very tiny motion. Onie motioned for him to sit next to her on the bench. "Ye said tha' ye uncle tol' ye to say that ye was younger than ye is, right?"

"Yes. He said he'd beat me if I told anyone how old I was."

"Well, it weren't yer fault, then."

Saston stared up at her with increased intensity. "Heralds aren't supposed to lie," he whispered as if the statement was a sentence of punishment.

"Aye," she agreed, wanting to reassure him. Even though he had lied, she was sure that no one would fault him for it. "Can't take that back. But ye kin make up fer it wit' tellin' tha truth now. An' if ye did it 'cause ye uncle said he was gonna beat'ye, it isna' as bad a lie as some."

That seemed to help, his tension and worry visibly lessening.

They sat silently next to each other.

"Was ye waitin' fer me?"

"I was hoping to see Chellie again, but . . . " he pointed toward the Healer-Trainee and her book. "she said I couldn't go. And Lady Delias came and she said, 'no'." He swallowed hard and Onie had the impression that Lady Delias had not been kind with her denial. "But I want to help."

Saston and Chellie were friends. They were linked through Onie, since they had both taken her last name, Thatcher, to help escape their previous lives. Saston usually ate lunch in the Common Room upstairs with Chellie when she was at the Palace to learn tailoring from the hertasi who served the Hawkbrothers. Chellie had even shown Saston how to sew simple things.

"I think ye might wants ta wait 'til ta'morrow ta see Chellie again. I canna come during tha'day, so she might be happy ta see some'un then. Maybe ye could tell tha hertasi," Onie did not actually know the couple's names, nor had she ever seen them. They apparently preferred to stay underground. "Don' know if anyone'as tol'em 'bout Chellie being here at tha House'a'Healin'."

Saston's eyes went wide with the idea and he eagerly nodded. He gave her a farewell hug and she admonished him to go back to his dormitory since it was late. After watching him go, the Healer-Trainee admitted Onie past her desk.

The Healers seemed to trust her now not to wander around unescorted. She went down to the lower level, to Chellie's room. Delias was there, along with Ingress, the Mind Healer and Chellie. Delias sighed visibly, obviously impatient to begin.

"Korey's na comin' tonight?"

"No, he was here earlier. And now he has night duty," Delias grumbled.

"Did ye ask 'bout if tha Hawkbrothers have any better herbs fer Chellie ta take?"

Ingress shook her head. "I'm sorry. Luba consulted the Hawkbrother Healers we know when Chellie first came to us. They don't have any better herbs than we do. And whenever any of them are born with Chellie's condition, they have no need to hide it."

"Do they's get cut, when they's born as a boy, when they's really a girl?"

"Yes." A faint smile curved her lips as Ingress nodded. Chellie's eyes widened with interest.

The Healer invited Chellie to tell them about how she had discovered she was a girl and how she had lived before coming to Haven. Unlike the other Healers, Ingress was completely neutral about removing Chellie's male parts. She had decreed that Chellie herself must convince them all, with her life's story, that cutting her was the right thing to do.

Chellie had always known she was a girl. She could not remember not being a girl. The big discovery, when she was a little when all the boys and girls wore the same clothes, was that she had the wrong body parts for a girl. Up until them, she had assumed that all girls had the same things under their long tunics that she did. She cried when she found out, because she knew it was deeply wrong and she could not change it.

She cried when she was old enough to wear pants and was forced to by her parents. But this was after her older brother, Kendron, had burned her when she told him she was a girl. So, she knew she had to wear pants and say nothing about it.

Anything she saw that other little girls had - - dresses, straw dolls, ribbons - - Chellie wanted desperately. So, she had stolen some of them even though she knew it was dishonorable. She was hardly ever able to hold and play with the things in her secret stash, wrapped in a scrap of oiled cloth in a broken box in a hidden wall recess in her family's modest house in Muntfort. But just knowing it was there was an anchor, an honest piece of who she really was.

Chellie knew she was a terrible boy and she got picked on for being skinny and lazy, but when she started reading lessons with the local priest, an activity that both boys and girls attended together, she found an outlet. If she was bookish, if she read, if she was 'scholarly', she had an acceptable excuse for not wanting to go hunt and play rough games. And she could be with other girls, reading letters and numbers. She thought then that she could be a scribe when she grew up, an acceptable life that did not require her to parade about with the masculine bravado of Muntfort men.

She was teased for being a 'girl', though the boys who did it had no idea of the truth behind their taunts. And even when the boys hit her for it, tried to get her into fights, she was secretly elated because being called a 'girl' was what she wanted. And there were always some adults (usually women) who strongly approved of her not wanting to get into trouble by fighting back and could drive the bullies away. At least for a little while.

Ingress stopped Chellie's confession. She actually looked disappointed that Ingress announced that she had said enough for the night. But Onie saw the candles in the room burned down nearly to the nub. Bron, studying the law books alone in her room, would not be happy when she finally got there.

They said their farewells and Onie left with Lady Delias who had mostly sat silently through Chellie's tale, sometimes looking away during it but otherwise neutral.

"Ye thinks tha Healer's should cut Chellie after all?" Onie finally asked when they exited the House of Healing. Delias darted a look backward, as if the building was listening to them.

"I don't know if Chellie could bear it if they didn't," she admitted. "Have you decided to give them permission already then?" she demanded.

Onie still found it strange that this responsibility had landed on her, as if she had instantly become a parent while she wasn't looking. But . . . . 'parent' and 'guardian' were nearly the same thing. It had seemed so simple a few moons ago, just a formality of a royal declaration and signing a parchment that would get Chellie away from her relatives.

"I don' want nothin' bad ta happen ta Chellie. But it looks ta me . . . . . Chellie's got ta convince tha Healers that geldin'er is na as bad as na doin' it. Even if I says 'aye', won' do na good if they won' do it."

Delias sighed. "This isn't anything Chellie hasn't already told me before back at the Manor. I don't know why I even need to be here. But . . . . I've never heard her say it as if she . . . . had hope." Delias looked up into the black, overcast sky, obviously not talking to Onie at all.

Her farewell was cursory as they parted.

Onie hurried back to her room at the Collegium and as she expected, Bron was grumpy about her tardiness. He was even more unhappy when she told him that there was a chance she might be late to the dreaded Valdemar Law class the next day if the meeting with Teren went too long.

She hesitated telling him Saston's secret, but if he was confessing it to the Dean next morning, everyone would know soon enough.

"What? That child is _ten_?" He shook his head. "Your family's turning out to be more trouble than mine. And you don't even have any property or inheritances for people to squabble over." He sat back, his long nose casting a dark shadow on his face and mustache in the lamplight. "Yeah, you better go to the Dean right away. He'll be in his office before class. I think a page from the palace brings him his meals there."

"But now," he slammed a book open on Onie's desk. "Tell me what you think this word puzzle means about who owns wandering cows."

Relived that he wasn't too upset - - and that he promised to make excuses for her if she was late for class - - she put aside her spectacles and they bent over the books and the blocks of text about livestock disputes, a problem that a Herald in the field was very likely to run into. They had both already agreed that that the Queen's Law was written for judges and clerks, but not for anyone else.

Onie rubbed her eyes. "Don' know how a Herald's s'posed ta know this." She sat back away from the thick volume. "No one kin keep all'is in'ere head. An how could they carry even one o'these wit'em anyway? Is tha Companions s'pose to carry these books too, along wit' all tha other gear." Onie has already attended a demonstration for Trainees on what supplies and tack that Heralds riding circuit took with them. A law library was not included.

Bron's lip curled up on one side. "They can't." He thumped the fat volume. "But they have to carry something. Something smaller and a lot more to the point than these dead weights. Like the guide books we have on caravans." A gleam in his eyes, he smirked. "We're studying from the wrong books."

Thinking back to the kit laid out on the grass that she and the other Trainees had looked over with great curiosity, Onie remembered seeing a few modest volumes along with the maps, the parchment, ink and pens, the rope, the tools, the rations, the weapons, the rain cloak . . . . but she had not asked about the books at the time amidst all the other things. She had only been at the Collegium for barely a moon at the time.

With a new goal for their morning class, Bron ended their study session. Onie was not quite sure what he planned, aside from finding the law book that Heralds took with them on circuit and 'suggesting' that their instructor start referring to that.

Onie decided that she would let him do the talking.

* * *

 **\- - - End Part 3**


	4. Chapter 4

**GROUNDLING 4: TRANSITIONS**

by ardavenport

 **\- - - Part 4**

* * *

Dean Teren's mouth gaped open. A half chewed crust of bread fell out onto the parchments on his cluttered desk.

"You're what?"

Onie put a steadying hand on Saston's shoulder. He glanced back up at her in a wordless plea. Onie took over for him; he had already spoken the words he needed to make up for the lie.

"What'ee means ta say, Dean, is tha'is uncle tol'im ta tell ev'ryone 'ee was younger than'ee was. Or'eed get beaten. An 'ee said tha same thing when'ee come'ere 'cause 'ee never been allowed ta do any diff'rent afore."

The Dean regained his composure and brushed the bit of crust out of sight. "So, you are actually ten years old, Saston?"

"Yes, Sir," he answered in a small voice. "And I'm really sorry I lied. I-I know I wasn't supposed to."

Teren leaned forward over his desk. "Given what Onie says, it is quite understandable. I have met your uncle. Please, sit."

Onie started to take a seat with him, but Teren waved her off. "You have classes, Onie. I don't want to delay you."

Saston's head whipped around, fearfully looking up at her. She gave him a smile. "Ye gots nothin' ta worry bouts now, Saston. Like'ee said, tha Dean's met yer uncle. An I'ave, too. Ye tellin'em ye was six when ye come'is more yer uncle's fault than yees."

Looking only half-reassured, Saston nodded and she left.

She had plenty of time to get to class and when she got there, she found that Bron was early, too. He had gotten ahold of a Herald's field book of Valdemar Law. He had installed himself in his usual chair up front in the classroom. A couple of Blues had taken seats in the back of the room. Whispering to each other and waiting for the show.

Bron generally made his presence known in the one Collegium class he was required to attend. He accepted the need for a Herald to learn law, but often had quibbles with how it was being taught which he would freely tell their teacher, interrupting the lecture with his questions.

Their class instructor was not fond of his presence, either. Benard Filamore was a senior clerk of the courts of Haven and he wore his dark gray robes of office while he paced before them, his deep rumbling voice lecturing them about the fine details of Valdemaran Law. Onie was sure that he knew the law books he assigned for reading by memory. He always had a prompt answer to every question, whether it was from Childorn or any of the other student. His usual dismissive tone just showed how much he disliked being interrupted. The Herald-Trainees and Blues who attended the class rarely risked their teacher's steely gaze, but Bron, who was ten years Filamore's senior, only returned it with his own blue-eye glare. When Filamore strongly suggested that questions might be saved for the end of class, Bron would counter that there was no point in him listening to a legalistic maze unless he knew where it was going.

Outside of class, Bron had mentioned in passing that Filamore had complained to Dean Teren about him. But whether Dean Teren was ignoring Filamore, or Bron was ignoring Teren, Onie did not know. Bron continued demanding explanations in class. Filamore continued to be annoyed.

Now, Bron was starting out class with his arrow already nocked. Onie leafed through the worn book, small enough to easily fit in a saddlebag, that Bron said he had borrowed from a Herald recently returned from circuit and staying at the Palace. The text was small and compact, written by a scribe with a neat, precise hand, but it made much more sense than any three of the heavy volumes Filamore assigned them to read. There was a list of contents in the beginning and an index of notes at the back. And the subjects had short titles that made sense, 'Land Disputes', 'Property Distribution', 'Inheritance'.

"Aye?" Her head snapped up as Bron jerked the book out of her hands. The class room had quietly filled up with the usual students, mostly Herald Trainees, a few Blues and one Bard-Trainee who never smiled. All of them were teenagers, much younger than Onie and much, much younger than Bron.

Filamore entered and paused. There was a tall stack of heavy leather-bound law books on the teacher's desk. Onie had just assumed that Filamore had put them there and planned to punctuate his lectures with the material in them. He had done that before, but only with one or two books or scrolls at a time.

Next to her, Bron Childorn's grin broadened. But he did not speak up until Filamore had examined the volumes and asked the class who was responsible for them.

"I was just wondering where a Herald is supposed to put all of that when they're riding circuit."

Filamore's eyes briefly closed as if he should have known that his classroom nemesis had to be the one to speak first.

"Naturally, out of pure necessity, Heralds in the field are forced to resort to rough justice. But only after they have been thoroughly trained in the complete length and breadth of the laws of this land."

"You mean, rough justice like this?" Childorn held the little book up high. Onie heard the whole class shifting in their seats to get a good look at it.

Filamore's lips thinned with an expression that he used for unworthy questions.

"Seems to me," Bron went on before Filamore could compose his response. "That this is a more practical guide to what we're supposed to be learning here. So, why not use it instead of fiddling over every little word in those things?" He waved the little volume at the tall stack as if to brush them away.

From the look in his hard gaze, Filamore clearly recognized what Bron was holding up for all to see. Bron lowered his hand and riffled through the page with a smile as if it was a book of poetry.

In his crisp judicial robes, his broad shoulders square, Filamore stood at attention. "Use of such an abbreviated document for study could never prepare Heralds to fully understand the laws of this land, let alone administer them."

"The Heralds administer the laws of this land all the time, using just this." Bron snapped the book shut and held it up again. "I've talked to several of them. And not a single one has ever had to divide an estate between three widows, nine half-siblings and five cats, or whatever horse droppings you were boring us with last week."

'Horse droppings.' Filamore mouthed the insult.

The whole class cringed back. The confrontation had just risen to a new and uncomfortable level.

Filamore stood stiff and motionless for a long time, but Bron remained silently defiant. Onie's spectacle-assisted vision spotted a thick vein throbbing in Filamore's neck as he loudly sucked in air through his nose.

"I see," he finally said, his voice dangerously calm. "Then you would prefer that the Queen's Heralds cross this land, dispensing the Crown's law from a recipe book."

"Better than breaking our Companions' backs hauling all that around the countryside." Childorn leaned forward, pointing an accusing finger at the tall book stack.

"Well," Filamore concluded, "I see that this matter must be settled by a higher authority than the Dean of the Collegium." He waved a hand to the room. "Class dismissed. We will not reassemble until this disagreement is settled." He turned and swept out of the room.

People got up uncertainly, many sturdy chairs slowly scrapping the wood floor. Onie stared at Bron, shocked by what he had just done, and that he was obviously not concerned about it.

"So, how's Clerk Filamore goin'ta 'settle this matter'?" she asked when Childorn finally got up and she followed. Some other Trainees and Blues cast worried glances toward them as they left.

"I suppose he's just going to go over Teren's head and petition the Queen to get me out of his class."

"Don' sound so good fer ye."

"I don't know why. Either I don't have to take this wretched class anymore or we get a new instructor. I will be happy with either one."

"Well ye's 'sposed ta take tha class ta be a Herald. How's ye not goin'ta take it?"

"I'm already a Herald." He held his arms out as if to display his Whites. "They're not taking that back. But knowing Selenay, she's not going to let me out of this obligation," he grimaced, "so, I suppose we're getting a new teacher."

"Aye? How's'at?"

"Because Prince Daren had to sit through Filamore's lectures and he is not a supporter."

"So, what happens ta Filamore then if'ees replaced?"

Bron shrugged as he pushed the door leading outside the Collegium. "Selenay will probably promote him. Make him a judge if there's an opening. He's certainly qualified enough to bore anyone in Haven, unfortunate enough to get stuck in his court, with the Law of the Land.

Onie sniffed as she settled her cloak over her in the chill winter air. A few flakes of snow drifted by but it did not look like much more was coming. Bron immediately headed toward Companion's Stable. Onie paused, not sure if Lillis would be in the Field or inside, but then she remembered that she still had not asked the Healers if they could help with her riding problem. She headed for the House of Healing. The Trainee at the desk in the anteroom was a little younger and friendlier than usual and she perkily agreed to see if Healer Luba was available.

Luba arrived a few minutes later.

"Ah! I was hoping you'd come to see Chellie."

"Aaaaah . . . "

Luba correctly read Onie's expression. "You did not come to see Chellie."

"Aaaah, no. I come ta ask if ye's kin help wit'me riding."

"Your riding?" Luba's brow furrowed.

"Aye. I bin practicin', going faster a little at a time, like I bin doin' wit'me stair climbin'. But I'm na getting' na better. An' . . . Lillis bin sayin' I bin bruisin'er . . . a bit."

"So, you need me for Lillis's bruises?"

"Uh, no. I was hopin' ye could see how I's could stop makin'em. So, I kin ride better."

The stout Healer rolled her eyes. "Onie, I know nothing of riding, either horse or Companion. Maybe you should ask the other Companions about it."

"Lillis asked'em, but they don'know anythin' tha' could help. I been thinkin' tha' it migh be somethin' ye could see when I ride, like when ye see me drawin' strength from tha ground when I's come down from stairs."

She sighed. "That isn't really much different from me seeing a starving patient drawing strength from a meal. Your case is just unusual. I can't see why you weaken from climbing upstairs in the first place, except for your strong affinity for Ground. And the only thing that has helped that is you practicing and acclimating to the height. If practicing isn't helping you with your riding, I don't know what will."

Onie's shoulders dropped. "Well, could ye try? Watch me ride an' see if yes thinks of somethin'?"

Luba reluctantly agreed with no promises. Onie told her when her next riding class would be that afternoon, but Luba held up a warning finger.

"I will go watch and tell you if I think of anything, but only if you talk to Chellie now. You recognized her as a girl with no reservation at all after you had already seen her as a boy; she appreciates that more than you know. Speak with her about what she intends to do."

"Don' think I haves any advice tha she can use. I don' know anythin' 'bout what she's goin' through; it's all new ta me."

"Chellie has gotten more than enough advice. I think she would just appreciate a friend to talk to." Luba smiled. "One who is not a Healer."

Onie agreed and Luba escorted her part of the way, until another Healer called to her for help. So, Onie knocked on Chellie's door alone. She entered after hearing a muffled invitation from inside.

Luba seemed to be right about Chellie wanting company. She jumped up with a big smile and a hug. Onie was reminded of how rarely she saw the young girl smile at all. She was always wary and nervous, somewhat like her benefactor, Lady Delias.

They sat down together after Chellie cleared a space on her bed.

"Ye's sewing?" Onie noted the masses of fine blue linen.

"I'm making a dress for Delias. Part of my apprenticeship with Miro and Goro." She named the Hertasi couple that she was learning sewing from; they were an older married couple, Chellie never referred to just one of them, it was always both.

She tidied the fabric, the needles safely tucked away in its folds. "Delias only came here with riding clothes and most of the things in the House's attic weren't usable because that man before us didn't take care of anything left behind from when Kendron lived there." She bowed her head. "Not that Delias would ever be welcome at Court again. But she deserves something nice to wear." She gave Onie one of her more usual wan smiles. "And I need the practice."

"Lady Delias can't go ta Court? But she's seen tha Queen. Didna look like tha Queen didna like'er. Why shouldna she na be welcome at Court?"

Chellie shook her head. "That was when she was pleading for me. But Delias would never be accepted by any of the nobles at Court. Not after she tried to claim your nephew as her child. Our nephew," she corrected.

"Aye, our nephew. Bin wonderin' 'bout that. Sami bein' me nephew by me sister Mec. An' Sami bein' yer nephew by yer brother Kendron. Havin' tha same nephew, does'at make us sisters?"

Chellie's smile returned, her eyes lighting up. "I hope so." She reached for Onie's hands, grasping them tight. "I couldn't ask for a better sister. But . . . well, I have a sister, Madder. She's just a year younger than Kendron, but . . . I don't think she'd accept me as I am very well. She's more like Lord Drogon; she thinks that men and women have their places set by the gods. They look down on anyone different from that. Not someone who would be in our family."

"Did she burn ye like yer brother did, when she finds our yees a girl?"

She shook her head. "No, she never did that; I never told her; she was so much older than me; we were never close. And I never wanted to be like her. She would always say that the Father Tree made things to be certain ways and you did not want to cross the gods. She married a cousin of ours who was a ranger and lives in the forest and we'd only see her on festivals."

They talked about their families a bit. After Chellie and Kendron's father died it seemed like their small family just disappeared. Their mother went to live with her sister (their aunt) and her family. Madder stayed in the forest with her husband. Kendron and Chellie (when she was still Roston) went to the Manor. She sounded sad about it, but not regretful. She never, ever wanted to go north again.

Onie told Chellie about how Mec was shunned when she first came back with Sami. Ma and Pa had been shocked and demanded to know what happened in Haven, but Mec would only declare that Sami's father was an honorable man. Their parents were angry and their mother cried more than once, but they would not turn Mec and their grandson away. And while he never said anything, Onie was sure that their Pa was secretly proud of Mec's determination while the whole town gossiped and whispered terrible things about her. He shouted at Lonie and Dec when they quietly asked if their children should play with Sami when he was older; Sami was as much his grandchild as their children were. Mec had cried and hugged him when he did that.

Onie told Chellie that she had not told her family about her past life and that she never would since it was not her secret to tell. Chellie gave her a hug and sincere thanks. She wanted to be just who she was now; Roston Jestren was gone and would be cut off and cast away. But her frown returned when she spoke of her future.

"I don't think Healer Uratus likes me. He's still refusing to cut me. No matter what I say, he says he won't do it."

"What's Luba and Ingress say?"

"I think Luba might understand now. And I know Ingress does. She hasn't said anything, but . . . I can tell. She-she understands." She lowered her head. "But she can't do it."

"Uratus isna tha only Healer who can."

"Yes. They just said he was the most skilled. But I don't care about that." Conviction flared in her blue eyes. "I just need them to find me a Healer who will do it. Or I'll find one."

Onie remembered Luba's fear that Chellie would resort to a back-alley priest to make her into a woman. She patted her sister's hand.

"I think they'll finds another Healer ta do it fer ye."

* * *

 **\- - - End Part 4**


	5. Chapter 5

**GROUNDLING 4: TRANSITIONS**

by ardavenport

 **\- - - Part 5**

* * *

Healer Luba saw nothing that she could suggest that would help with Onie's riding after watching her equitation class. Except that Onie was an exceptionally bad rider and a Companion was probably the only beast whose back she could stay on. It was only a mild disappointment for Onie, but she could at least tell Bron Childorn that she had made the inquiry.

Three days later, during their evening discussion at the House of Healing, Ingress introduced Chellie, Lady Delias and Onie to Healer Morlin. He was as average and non-descript as any man of middle years could be, round-faced and of average size and obviously not very athletic. He modestly praised Healer Uratas's abilities over his own, but he promised Chellie that he would remove her manhood from her.

Her eyes lit up, but before she could exclaim her thanks to him he stopped her.

"Please be aware that I have never done this procedure before. Uratus has and he has promised to instruct me even though he will not participate."

Chellie's eyes widened in surprise. "He has? But-but why won't he - - "

"He has served as a Healer in war. And he has performed many types of amputations, but only for grievous injuries, to save the life of the injured, when there is no other choice. And for many men this would be the most grievous kind. Uratus cannot bear to perform an amputation on a healthy body. But please, do not fault him for not being able to see past the flesh, or how your life is endangered if this amputation is not done.

Subdued, Chellie nodded, her eyes clinging to the hope. "You understand?" she asked in a small voice.

Morlin nodded toward Ingress, who smiled and touched Chellie's hand. "Child, you are the youngest person we have ever seen who has been cursed with such a cruel mis-match of birth. Usually, when they are brought to me they have been hiding and suffering for years, decades. Some of them damaged beyond my Healing, any Healing. I would be very glad to see you live the true life that is inside you without having to endure that."

Chellie's eyes glistened with tears and even Lady Delias dabbed at her eyes.

The rest of the discussion was Morlin's description, in uncomfortable detail, about what would happen. Chellie would be gelded first, but the rest of the 'amputation' would only happen after the first one had healed. The details were more gruesome than Onie cared to hear and there were many promises of pain in the recovery but the recipient eagerly listened. Morlin needed a few more days to prepare, but Chellie accepted the delay and promised to follow all his instructions to prepare.

The group broke up; Chellie was allowed to go back to Munthunt House with Lady Delias. Onie would have dinner with them on her usual night, two days before the operation. She did not say so, but she was glad; she would be allowed to go back to her studies and would have time to read to Saston in her room.

Since his confession, Saston's status had changed somewhat. He had spent nearly half a day with the Healers who examined and laid hands on him in every way. Afterward they pronounced the obvious, that he would be abnormally small, but otherwise seemed healthy. Saston's mother had not been, so it was assumed that he inherited his condition from his father, but the secret of his identity died with her. The only thing Saston or his cousin Barro knew was that Uncle Sev and Aunt Tila complained that his mother had been 'loose' with traveling winter fair folk and Saston was born the following fall. Dean Teren concluded that his uncle told Saston to lie about being younger to conceal the shame of his abnormality.

When she was finally able to sit with Saston on her bed, with his newest reading book, Onie got to see how his studies had changed. Saston was still behind on his numbers and letters because his uncle had denied him any education, but since he was older, he now had more classwork.

Onie thumbed the new book. It was about Heralds traveling on circuit, written like stories, but obviously meant for instruction. Each chapter was about a different real person, with dates and the names of the kings and queens of their times and there were a lot of ordinary details about how they lived, rode, cooked, delivered the Crown's law to the villages and towns they went to. There were no wars, no great deeds of heroism or terrible villains. A couple of the Heralds had to deal with bandits on the roads, but the fighting was only briefly described; it took much longer to pass judgment on them and determine punishment.

Finally convinced that his elders were not angry with him for lying about his age, Saston was eager to catch up and Onie helped him with his assigned reading and promised that he could come more often if he needed. She told him that the Healers would make Chellie a real girl in a few days and they would have a special dinner for her before then.

"I'm goin' there early ta help in'a kitchen. Korey Mineeladath, Lady Delias's friend in tha City Guards, is bringin'is family an'ee wants somethin' more special than what they usually serve there. Would ye's like ta'come? Some'a Korey and Ludi's children is about yer age."

Saston happily agreed, but when they arrived at Munthunt House, late in the morning, two days later, they found the house in a minor uproar.

It took a long time for someone to answer the front gate after they rang the bell. They had sent Capar and Lillis back to the Collegium. It was fine for Lillis to wait for a simple dinner, but Munthunt House had no good accommodations for Companions for an afternoon and evening, and Saston could Mindspeak Capar when they were ready to go.

Reed, the maid's son finally opened the gate and then led them to the house to let them in. They stamped the dusting of snow off their boots and Onie hung up both their cloaks when Reed told them that a messenger had arrived late last night and Lady Delias was all upset, she and Chellie were upstairs sewing and they may not be having dinner after all. Onie heard a noise and Lady Delias appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Frena, is that Korey?" She got halfway down the stair before she saw Onie.

"Oh, the goddess's tits," she swore, "it's you. We can't have dinner tonight, so you can go." She turned around but then stopped herself. "Wait, that Herald you're secretary for, he's a Councilor to the Queen, isn't he?"

"Bron Childorn? Aye."

"Good, we might be able to use him. Stay there. And send Korey up when he gets back." She turned away again. "He'd better get back soon," she grumbled to herself as she hurried back upstairs again.

Onie and Saston looked at each other. Then Onie introduced Saston to the other boy.

"Ye kin show Saston around tha house while I's goes up and finds out wha' theys doin' upstairs?" Reed looked down at the smaller boy and agreed. "I's be right back," she assured her fellow Herald-Trainee before climbing the stairs. She took a long deep breath when she got to the top, promising the queasiness lurking in the bottom of her stomach that she would not stay long.

Delias and Chellie were in what they called the sun room. It had a relatively large, many-paned window that gave good daylight from the south and it was the best room in the house for sewing. There were two other dresses spread out on a table besides the one that Onie had seen Chellie working on at the House of Healing.

"Onie!" Chellie jumped up from her work and went to the door. Delias gave her a cross look, but did not get up from her chair or put down her embroidery on a pale yellow hem.

"What's yees doin' all this fer now?"

"Lord Drogon sent us a message from Munthunt Manor. One of Lord Benryle sons is coming to Haven to contest our borders to the Queen. And Lady Delias has to speak for Munthunt Hill."

"Aye?" None of the names meant anything to Onie, but she had at least learned in her Valdemar Law class that border disputes were very important.

"Yes, and I have to be presentable when I make our case to stop those thieving Benryles from taking our land, so unless you can embroider or sew these things faster than we can, you can go back downstairs and wait for Korey."

Chellie looked up at her, her eyes pleading for understanding. Not really wanting to stay anyway, she excused herself. Fortunately Korey came in through the door almost as soon as reached the bottom of the stairs. The Sargent told her what happened.

After sundown, a messenger arrived, cold and with a spent horse, and delivered a hand-written message from Lady Delias's father. While the messenger took his horse to a stable, Delias sent Reed to tell Korey the news.

The neighboring Lord, Klemet Benryle, was claiming some plots of land on the borders between the Munthunt Forests and his own estate, Rockfall. Some of his people, including one of his younger sons, Tomet, had established homesteads and were claiming that the land should revert to them due to the negligence of the Munthunt rangers who did not discover their settlement for nearly a year. Two Heralds on circuit had ruled on the case, deciding that the border should stand as it was, but that Lord Drogon should compensate the settlers for anything they had confiscated. Tomet Benryle disagreed with the ruling and was determined to petition the Crown to reverse the decision and grant his father the change in the border. This prompted Lord Drogon to dispatch a messenger to call on his daughter in Haven to represent his case before the Queen.

"Korey!" Delias shouted from upstairs.

"I'm here!" Sargent Mineeladath hurried past Onie and met Delias halfway up.

"Are they here?" she demanded, standing over him on a higher step.

"Yes, they got to Haven the same time as your father's messenger. Tomet and a couple of followers went straight from Benryle's Manor to the Palace at first light, but they only ended up waiting around for a couple candlemarks before the Palace Clerks told them to go away and wait until the Heralds arrived and reported to the Queen - - "

Korey suddenly froze, his body going rigid.

"Wait . . . . wait. How did the messengers get here before the Heralds?"

"Oh, one of the Heralds was sick and they're delayed. That's why Benryle thought he could get his word in first with the Queen and father sent his messenger, otherwise he would have sent his letter with the Heralds."

"What?! You didn't tell me that Delias! What else is in that letter?"

"Just what I told you. We have to be ready to plead my father's case to the Queen against those land-stealing Benryles."

"Why would the Queen rule against her own Heralds anyway? They're not disputing where the border is, are they?"

"Oh, I don't know, Korey." she answered with venomous sarcasm. "Maybe because my father has a head full of DUNG. The Heralds ruled in his favor, but he burned down the Benryle's settlement anyway."

"He WHAT?! Delias, show me that letter!"

The two stomped upstairs, shouting all the way. Onie could hear the sounds even after they had gone into one of the rooms. A moment later, Chellie appeared at the top of the stairs and softly padded down, hanging onto the bannister and looking fearfully over her shoulder.

"Ye's na goin'na get much work done wit'all'a that goin on," Onie told her.

They stepped away from the stairs, but they could still hear some stomping from the ceiling.

"I guess we's na havin' dinner."

"I'm sorry, Onie. Delias should have sent Reed to the Palace to tell you before now. I just hope this doesn't . . . ."

Onie read the worry in the girl's blue eyes.

"If ye wants ta stay wi'me at that Collegium, ye can. Don' see na reason fer ye ta get inna middle of this. Ye can go straight ta tha House'a'Healin' from there when Healer Morlin is ready fer ye."

Chellie gratefully nodded her thanks. She had brought with her a huge basket of dark blue fabric, one of Delias's new dresses and they went to the sitting room. The light was not nearly as good as it was upstairs, so Onie fetched a taper from the kitchen and Chellie lit a couple lamps. The body of the dress was mostly done with only the sleeves and the hems that needed to be finished. Chellie sighed with relief that the fitting was mostly done. From the sounds of the thumps from upstairs Delias was hardly in a state at the moment to stand still while Chellie tidied up her hems.

Chellie told Onie more about Lord Drogon. Delias had inherited her temper from him, but she did not get riled up without good reason. Drogon was very old-fashioned, and he claimed that his family had always followed the ways of the Father Tree, an ancient religion reputed to have been part of the local folklore long before Valdemar was established. Onie paid her tributes to the Trine Goddess, but there was no One True Way in Valdemar and the many gods did not seem to mind each other. The Father Tree sounded fairly similar to the religion of Hardorn or at least what Onie remembered of it from Brother Callus's teachings back in Fair Fields. Onie suspected that a lot of those gods and goddesses and spirits were just the same ones with the different names and if they ever bothered to sort themselves out, there could be a lot fewer temples. But it seemed that everyone liked their own flavor of religion, so she doubted that would ever happen.

The Father Tree priests taught that the people were part of the land and blessed with thought and insight, were obliged to rule over and care for it. The rewards for good stewardship were beauty and plentiful food and abundant game. The punishments for abusing the land were death, decline and famine. Onie was surprised by the vehemence and reverence that Chellie spoke of the Father Tree. She would have thought Chellie might choose another spiritual path, given Lord Drogon's violent reaction to her true nature, but she said nothing. Brother Callus had drilled into his students that, unless invited to do so, questioning another person's gods was possibly the meanest thing a person could do.

Chellie's devotion was equally matched by her antipathy for the Benryle's. If the followers of the Father Tree believed in any demons, they would be named Benryle. Their land was poor for farming, but they farmed too much of it anyway. They counted their wealth in the number of their animals, the quantity of their goods, not in the health of their forests and fields. They blamed 'outsiders' for their meager harvests because they had different ways and never looked inward to solve their problems. Lord Benryle was always trying to push outward onto his neighbors' lands and constantly getting into minor disputes over it. Lord Drogon's rangers had to be especially vigilant on their northeast border. But something had gone wrong because Tomet Benryle's settlement had been on their border, undiscovered, for almost a year.

Onie listened and occasionally helped by holding fabric in place or threading a needle. She told Chellie about Fair Fields. It was a small town with an elected council; there were no nearby lords or estates to enforce the laws. The surrounding forests and lands were owned by the Crown and patrolled by the Guards. Every few years, some rogue poacher, settlers and their families would be caught and removed, though Onie never knew where they went to.

After a long while, Frena, Lady Delia's maid came in and asked if they wanted any refreshment. Lady Delias had canceled the evening dinner so they had not gone to the market for extra provisions, but they still had some things that they bought earlier. Onie and Chellie agreed and a moment later, Frena returned with hot cider, flat grain crackers, cheese, pickled vegetables and to Onie's great surprise sweet butter biscuits. Onie had never seen such food served in Delias's house; they both eagerly cleared the platter and agreed that Delias must consider Chellie's upcoming surgery to be a very special occasion indeed, even if she had not directly said so.

When Frena came to collect the tray and cups, Onie asked if she had offered Saston and Reed any food.

Frena's face lit up with a big smile. "Oh, yes, milady; they've stuffed themselves already and gone out in the yard trying to build a fort, but they'll have to wait for more snow to make much of it."

They were interrupted by a loud knocking at the door and Frena rushed to answer it. A moment later a burly man with bushy dark blond hair and beard and wearing a traveling cloak paused at the door. Glancing inside, he looked at them suspiciously and then turned away when he obviously recognized Chellie. His gruff voice stated that he needed to get the Lady's message before leaving.

"Is'ee tha messenger, then?"

Chellie nodded. "He wouldn't stay here; said Lord Drogon had given him money for an inn. He has to take Delias's answer back to Munthunt Hill while the roads are clear. But I don't think she's written it yet. We've been sewing all morning."

Onie shrugged, "Well, we can't do nothin' 'bout tha'." A moment later they heard more raised voices from upstairs.

Onie excused herself and went outside, around to the back of the house's large garden. Frena was right about there not being enough snow for a fort. They had rolled up balls of dirtly snow into a short wall that would barely reach her knees. They were talking, with their backs turned to her.

"My uncle used to say that the only reason why he didn't start up the mill when I was cleaning it was because the blood and bones would ruin the flour and I'd cost him a fortune."

"Yeah, well Reged used to make me clean all the fireplaces in the tavern when my mother was upstairs and he said if I didn't pick up every speck of ash, he'd make me clean'em while they was lit.

"Yeah, well my Aunt Tila used to make me clean the fireplaces with Barro and then when we were done and black, she'd dump cold buckets of water on us and scrub us with hard brushes and swore she's whip us if we tracked any of it on her floors."

"At least you had help . . .

They were two happy little boys, building a snow fort together and sharing ghastly stories of childhood abuse. Saston's at the hands of his cruel aunt and uncle and Reed's at the hands of the Tavern owner that his mother and Ressa, the cook, used to work at before 'Sergeant Korey' got them jobs working for Lady Delias.

Onie rarely saw the usually solemn Saston so animated.

She heard thumps mixed with a faint chime behind her and turned around.

"Aye?"

Both boys froze, as if they're been caught doing something they shouldn't, but then Saston jumped up and ran to his Companion.

"Capar!"

The big stallion gently touched his nose to his small Chosen. Eyes wide, Reed approached cautiously.

"Whoooooah. He's so big."

Capar muzzled Reed and he reverently touched his nose.

"He likes you." Saston announced happily.

Behind Capar, Lillis, saddled just like the other Companion, walked up to Onie, her sapphire eyes grave.

 _We have to go._

Saston stared up at Capar's sapphire eyes. "He says that two Heralds have come back from the North."

Lillis flicked her ears and Onie knew immediately that something was very wrong. And it had nothing to do with Lord Drogon's land dispute.

* * *

 **\- - - End Part 5**


	6. Chapter 6

**GROUNDLING 4: TRANSITIONS**

by ardavenport

* * *

 **\- - - Part 6**

Onie found out a little bit about what was wrong when Healer Luba came to her when she was cleaning evening meal dishes in the kitchen - - something she had never done - - and told her that Healer Morlin would need an extra day or two to prepare for Chellie's surgery because all the surgeons in the House of Healing were meeting about the Herald who had fallen ill in the north.

"Is it serious?"

Luba's expression turned stern. "Herald Thatcher, you know better than to ask about any patient of any Healer."

Onie had thought that her inquiry was vague and harmless enough to at least get a neutral and polite reply. But glancing toward the two other Herald-Trainees at the sinks, their heads down, their ears up, she was reminded of how fiercely Healers loathed gossip about the people they were caring for.

She let go of the pot she was scrubbing into the suds. "I'll be back." Grabbed a drying cloth, sheled Luba out of the kitchen, down the hall to her room where she closed the door behind them.

"I's only askin' 'casue tha two Heralds'oo'come has made'a rulin' on Lord Drogon's lands and Lady Delias'll be after'im ta speak in'er father's favor, if she can. An' I don' think she'll be polite 'bout getting' it."

Luba sighed, releasing the tension in her stance. "I've heard something about this, but I didn't realize that it was at all connected to Chellie. We can handle Lady Delias. And Herald Tillly, Herald Thintry's partner, is already reporting to the Queen for both of them. And she is more than capable of dealing with Lady Delias as well."

Onie nodded and Luba turned to go.

"Is it bad?"

A flash of her earlier crossness passed over her face, but the Healer sighed and it vanished.

"It is very, very bad. Probably mortal. This meeting of the surgeons will likely be a formality, so we can say that we tried everything. But short of a miracle from the gods, I do not know how Herald Thintry could survive." She held up a restraining hand.

"No more, please. Just send the message to Chellie."

"I tol' Chellie tha' she kin stay wit'me here, jus' in case Delias gets it in'er head that she has ta delay the surgery fer Chellie because'a this dispute wit' Lord Drogon's lands."

"Thank-you," Luba answered gratefully and then left.

When Onie returned to the sinks, she got two more pots cleaned before Nord, next to her, whispered a question about what Luba said. Onie knew he could Mindspeak his Companion.

"What's Cheppa say?"

He gulped. "She says it's bad."

She nodded back to him. "Healer Luba says the same thing." They finished their kitchen chores in silence.

With some effort, she put the grim prediction out of her mind and read her history book for the next day's class. But it was hard. Valdemar's history seemed to be all about Herald's dying. Heroically in battle, or serving the Crown and only sometimes dying of old age at the end of a long full life. The Healers always lost to death in the end, but something about Luba's grim expression told Onie that Healer Thintry was not so old that he should be dying of whatever illness he had.

She heard no other news about it until her equitation class the next day. Onie sadly had to refrain from any of the galloping exercises; she was determined to not hurt Lillis until she had found a way to improve her riding. They trotted together, alternating fast and slow while Onie tried to concentrate on what she was doing right when they trotted and how she could keep doing it at a run. But there was a distraction.

Another Hearld, astride her Companion on a plain work saddle was watching the rest of the class. She was lean and broad-shouldered with short, thick blonde hair and looked near Onie's age. Even on the partially snow-covered ground, a Herald in Whites on a brilliantly white Companion was hard to miss. Especially since Onie had never seen her before. She nudged Lillis to trot in her direction.

She turned toward them as they approached and her eyes narrowed.

"I have never, ever seen anyone ride a Companion as badly as you. I didn't think it was possible," she stated. She had a rich, full, commanding voice and spoke with absolute and annoying truth.

"I bin workin' on it."

"Really? It does not show at all. I'd have words with Ezor about it, but there is no possible way he could teach anyone to ride like that. It must be a natural talent for you."

Lillis flicked her ears and snorted. "Well, if yees got somethin' ta say 'bout me ridin' then ye kin say somethin' 'bout makin' it better. Otherwise ye jus' flappin' yer lips." Onie semi-quoted her mother's favorite saying about people who liked to complain.

The Herald straightened in her saddle and looked Onie and Lillis up and down. Lillis held her head up high, Onie kept her chin up, waiting for her appraisal.

"Trot around in a circle," she commanded. Lillis hesitated.

"Go on. Let's see if she's doin' more'n lip flappin'." They trotted in a wide circle around the woman and her Companion.

"Faster." They went faster.

"Now run." Lillis got hardly four steps before she shouted for them to stop. They returned to the center of the circle.

"That was horrible," she pronounced. "Now get off."

Lips clamped tight, Onie unbuckled herself from the saddle and dismounted.

"Now, trot around in a circle. The Herald's critical gaze followed Lillis going around them.

"Faster.

"Now run."

Lillis ran around a complete circle and then galloped right at them, coming to a quick stop only a few hand lengths away right in front of the newcomers in an obvious challenge, but neither Herald nor her Companion even flinched. Her Companion leisurely backed up and they walked around both Lillis and Onie.

"Now get on again."

Onie climbed back onto Lillis's back.

"No!"

Onie just glared back.

"No, no, no." She jumped down from her saddle, a single, fluid movement and marched up to them. "That's all wrong. Get off."

Onie climbed back down again. Despite her annoyance she was curious to see if this would amount to anything. None of the other Heralds, Mages or even Luba had tried any of these things when they were looking at either her riding or her Ground Gift. She patted Lillis who was just as annoyed with this woman.

Then Lillis whinnied in surprise as the Herald vaulted into the saddle, her foot barely touching the stirrup.

"Now trot in a circle again."

Lillis turned her head and gave the woman a poisonous sapphire-eyed glare, but she obeyed.

"Faster."

Lillis went faster and the Herald on her back rode with her as if she and the saddle were made for each other.

"Now run."

The circle widened as Lillis went to a full gallop. Onie watched in awe. She couldn't help it. She had never seen anyone ride Lillis before. Generally Heralds only rode their own Companions unless there was a need to ride another and there had been no need for anyone else to ride Lillis.

Until now.

Now it was beautiful, Lillis and this obnoxious, blond-haired woman moved as one. They circled her three times before Lillis slowed and trotted back to her and the other Companion. Again, the Herald effortless leapt off the saddle to the ground.

She went to her own Companion and faced them again.

"Now get on again. Slowly."

Onie grasped handholds on the saddle.

The woman narrowed her eyes.

She put her foot in the stirrup.

The woman leaned forward, looking closely. The other Companion narrowed her eyes.

Onie pushed off the ground, bringing her leg up and over into the saddle. She did not know if she was doing it slow enough, but she didn't know any other way to do it.

"No! That's wrong. How are you doing that?"

"We've been wondering that for many moons now," Bron Childorn answered as he and Hyer trotted just ahead of the rest of the equitation class.

"Ezor," the Herald addressed their instructor. "I know you're a better teacher than this. How is this happening?"

Ezor just shrugged sadly. "I'm sorry, Tilly. We've been working with her since last summer, but we seem to have hit some kind of plateau that she just can't get past.'"

Onie's eyes shot to the blond-haired Herald. Tilly?

"We're sure it has something to do with Onie's Ground Gift," Ezor went on. "But we don't even know how it works."

"Ground Gift?" Tilly answered, trying on the words. "Ground isn't a Gift. It's - it's Ground."

Ezor shrugged. "That's the best name we have for it."

Tilly whirled around and looked up at Onie. "So, your Gift is Ground then?"

"Aye."

"Well, what is a Ground Gift, then?"

"Well, I's canna do no MindSpeakin', not even wit' Lillis. An' I kin always tell when someun is lying wit'out usin' na Truth Spell. An' nothin' tha Mages do works on me."

"Magic doesn't work on you?'"

"Aye."

Bron Childorn chuckled. Tilly glanced back at him.

Her arms suddenly flew outward as if she was casting off a big cloak and everyone, Companions and Chosen, backed up several paces. Saston and a couple of the other students and Companions cried out. But Lillis only turned her head; otherwise, she did not move.

Tilly advanced, her eyes wild and fierce. They were hazel, pale brown and green. Her arms flailed and Saston cried out. Tilly remained frozen for long minutes, her palms reaching up toward Onie.

"Ye look pretty stupid wavin' yer arm aroun' like that, but na any stupider than any'a'tha other Mages when they do it."

She backed up in surprise. "You didn't see or feel anything?"

Onie shrugged. "Jus' you. Doin' this." She flopped her arms about in a deliberately bad imitation of Tilly's Mage work.

She backed up, her eyes wide in what Onie found to be a very satisfying shock. Bron chuckled louder.

"Well," she finally said, her voice returning to its previous demanding tone. "If you've got some kind of Ground Gift, then you," she pointed an accusing finger at Lillis, right between the eyes, "are the problem. You're not Grounded."

Lillis snorted and lifted her head high in denial.

"No," Tilly angrily shot back. "If she's Ground then you've got Ground on your back, not just under your hooves where it should be."

Lillis froze, her ears going up and forward, at attention.

"Fix it," Tilly commanded.

Tilly put her hands on her hips, waiting. Everyone fell silent. Lillis repositioned her feet and lifted her head high. A gentle and chilly breeze ruffled the trees.

"Aye?" Onie looked all around, but nothing had visibly changed. The mounted class had not moved at all, watching her and Tilly. But something was very different. . . .

"It don' feel so high," she exclaimed. Lillis lowered her head, shifted her feet and took a few steps in place. Onie knew that nothing had changed, except that something huge had. She felt as good as . . . . as if she was standing on the ground. She did not have to concentrate on the horizon to distract from the low level nausea lurking in the pit of her gut . . . because it simply was not there.

"Now walk. Slowly."

The rest of the class backed up as Lillis, head down in deep concentration, gingerly followed her own hoof prints in the circle. Onie felt her body moving with her; she did not even have to try; it just happened. Slowly, Lillis's head lifted and she walked normally.

"Now trot."

The pace increased, but Lillis's steps were fluid, natural. It was as smooth as if Onie was gliding over the ground.

"Run."

She leaned forward over the pommel of the saddle, but she hardly needed to. It was . . . . . wonderful. After half a year of trying and failing, the revelation of what she had been striving for was like the cold wind on her face, it made her feel more alive, as if she herself was running free with Lillis.

In the wind, she heard Bron Childron laughing out loud, and Saston shouting encouragement along with the rest of the class.

"All right, stop."

Onie did not want to, and she knew that Lillis did not either, but they did, trotting to a stop before Tilly who still stood with her hands on her hips. "That's better at least," she appraised as if they were just barely acceptable.

"Aye. Tha's much better." Onie did not care if Tilly still found fault with them. Suddenly, now all of Companion's Field was open to them, riding together.

"Tilly, you're a miracle-worker." Ezor's Companion, Miran, stepped lightly forward and turned so they faced Tilly, Onie and Lillis. "How did you ever see that? We've been watching her ride of half-a-year; me, Cheeter, half the Mages in the Palace, all the Companions . . . ." He was thoroughly impressed. But Lillis lowered her head.

"Aye!" Onie leaned forward. "Weren't yer fault! I'm tha one wit'too much Ground. And tha whole herd'a'Companions didna see it, so, I don' know why ye shoulda." The eye Lillis turned to Onie was deeply embarrassed.

"Well, ye sees it now, don'ye?" Lillis nodded.

"So, ye can show me more," Onie encouraged. The sadness lifted a bit from her blue eye. Onie leaned forward, her voice going low.

"Show me more."

For a moment, her large equine eye smiled before she threw her head up and whipped around.

"Noooo! Come back here!" Tilly shouted after them as Bron laughed and the rest of the class cheered.

All her life, Onie had shrugged off the benefits of running except as a means of getting from one place to another faster. But now she saw it. She felt it down in her heart, matching Lillis's hoof beats on the frozen ground. The feeling of speed, of rushing forward. Running was excitement. She never understood why so many people would want to stand in the sun for a good view of the horse races during festivals back home in Fair Fields, events that were over and done with in a fraction of the candlemarks waiting for them to start. Now she knew.

And on Lillis, as Chosen and Companion, they were running together. It was more than joy and the thrill of diving into something new. Running was life.

Onie saw the hedge rushing toward them. It would be a modest leap for any Companion. She briefly wondered if she was ready for it, but she did nothing to signal Lillis to stop or go around. It was only a small jump.

Lillis's shoulders rose, her back legs powerfully pushing upward. Onie's mouth opened wide with the lift. She felt like she was being shot up into the sky.

Suddenly ground and gray sky switched and then tumbled around and around.

"Ooooooffhh!" Her back impacted on hard, cold ground.

Everything went black.

* * *

 **\- - - End Part 6**


	7. Chapter 7

**GROUNDLING 4: TRANSITIONS**

by ardavenport

 **\- - - Part 7**

* * *

Onie's head hurt. Her back hurt. But her first coherent thought was of Lillis, who would be terrified that she'd been hurt.

 _Falled off again._

Her eyes hurt when she cracked them open and looked up at the gray sky. Grimacing, she lifted her head, looking for Lillis.

"No! Don't move!"

Hands pressed her back down and Onie now stared up at a frantic Tilly. Viewed from below, her eyes were more brown than green. She knelt next to the hedge that Lillis had jumped. It was not that high, it would hardly came up to Tilly's chest.

"You'll hurt yourself. The Healers are coming."

"Aye? I's just bruised." Onie grimaced. "A lot." Then she turned her head toward a mournful whinny, lifting a hand toward her Companion.

"Weren't yer fault. I's just na ready fer tha' part."

Tilly's open mouth gaped even wider.

"Wha-? What?" She jumped up to her feet, looking Onie over head to foot. "Why aren't you dead?"

"Aye? Didna fall tha far." Onie felt her side and slid her hand under her back and grimaced. "Be some bruises, but tha ground aren't tha'hard."

"What?" Tilly stomped her foot. "It's frozen." Her eyes darted to either side of Onie. "And . . . " her foot kicked at the dusting of snow a little too close to Onie's head. " . . . you landed on a rock! You should have at least broken your back!"

Onie's fingers felt again, and she silently conceded that there was a flatish surface under her under the grit and cold snow. "Well," she shifted her shoulders, "I gots bruises fer sure, but donna feel nothin' broken."

"Oh, out of the way, out of the way!"

Onie recognized Healer Luba's breathless voice approaching. She appeared, her large bosom heaving from the run.

"Oh, I've been waiting for this." The Healer sounded far too happy for Onie's liking.

Luba dropped to her knees beside her and pelted her with questions. Onie could move her hands and feet. Yes, her head hurt, but it was feeling better. She was stiff and sore, but Luba's physical examination of her limbs revealed no broken bones.

The whole process took longer than it might have if Tilly, who positioned herself opposite Luba on Onie's other side, hadn't kept interrupting with dire descriptions about how Onie had fallen as if a god had swept her out of the saddle and cast her down to the ground. Onie glimpsed in the corner of her eye young Saston and Bron (the rest of the riding class seemed to have been dismissed) reacting to the tale of horror with a couple Healer-Trainees and a downcast Lillis.

"I'll get the litter," Tilly started to rise to get the litter that the three Healer Trainees had brought, but Luba stopped her.

"No. I'll examine her here. Don't put her on a litter, or a bed. Don't lift her off the ground." She glanced back toward her Trainees. "I've seen her draw strength from it. Now we can see how much." She flexed her fingers over Onie's chest like a musician preparing over an instrument.

"I can anchor you with my Mage Gift. I've done it in the field before," Tilly offered. Onie was not reassured.

"No - - - " Luba started, casting another glance at her Trainees as if measuring their worthiness. "No - - - Yes. I think, yes, someone else should see this."

They fell silent, kneeling on either side of her, Onie looking up at the bottoms of their bosoms and chins and the gray sky above.

Breathing deeply, each one prepared their mysterious Gifts. Onie had been in the House of Healing enough to have seen them working. There was not really much to see. Healers with eyes closed laying their hands on their patients, who seemed very grateful for the attention. But otherwise, watching them was like trying to follow the work of a carpenter building something on the inside of a house by looking at it from the outside. For a house with no windows.

Luba laid her hands on her middle and Tilly did the same. Luba's hands were especially warm. Her bosom rose and fell with her deep breaths.

"Ahhh!" Her head flew back, her body spasming.

"Ooof!" The weight of Luba's body collapsing onto her chest pushed the air out of her.

Then again when Tilly's body added its weight to Luba's.

Onie gasped at the sound behind her, a Companion's scream. Her eyes turned toward Lillis and she froze.

Head down, Lillis had her eyes squeezed shut, her legs splayed outward in an ungainly way as if she was fighting to hold her place.

Bron Childorns shouted. "Ooow! That hurts! What are you? - - -" joined by a frantic torrent of loud snorting and panicked whinnys. But Onie did not look at what was happening. Eyes pinned to her Companion, she knew immediately that she must not move or in any way disturb what Lillis was doing.

A bell sounded, low and mournful.

"Healer Luba!" "Luba!" The Healer Trainees feet and legs appeared, but they stayed back from their mentor. Lillis's head lowered, her ears down. It was a little harder to breathe under Luba and Tilly's combined weight but Onie kept still, sure that any movement might interrupt whatever her Companion was doing.

The bell sounded again, reverberating over the field, the tone lasting longer than any bell from any tower should.

Onie heard people's voices, shouting in the distance. Lillis's head very slowly lifted, as if she was pulling up a great weight. Her slender legs trembled.

The bell sounded again.

Lillis whipped her head back and her whinny was almost immediately followed by a louder answering equine panic and hooves pawing the ground.

"Uuuuuuuhhhhhh!" Tilly suddenly flung herself up and back. Then Luba did the same with a scream that came out as multiple squeals. Onie never would have thought that she could have made such noises. Immediately the Trainees surrounded her. Luba was gasping and incoherent for a moment before she was able to tell them that she was uninjured.

A warm breath passed over Onie's hair and she looked up at Lillis's huge, soft, white nose.

"Oh, dear," Luba cried out, putting a hand to her chest. "I seem to have soiled my robes."

Onie heard Tilly's voice shouting, angry and full-throated. "Oh, god's hairy ass!"

The Healer Trainees hurried to retrieve a case that they had brought with the litter. Apparently, this was the sort of emergency that they normally came prepared for. But Tilly did not wait for them. She somehow managed to kick and squirm her way out of her pants over her boots. She did accept a cloth from one of the Healer Trainees to wipe herself with and then she threw it down on the ground with her pants and left the mess for them to clear up.

By then more people were arriving. Heralds, Palace Guards, Companions. All asking questions, particularly about why the Death Bell had sounded.

Onie has suspected that was what the bell she heard had been. It certainly sounded like a Death Bell and anyone who had grown up with Valdemar's tales and the Bards' songs knew about the Death Bell in Companion's Field that rang whenever a Herald died.

But, who had died? Tilly was vociferously alive and cursing. And shouting.

"Gunnar!"

Another Companion arrived, this one with a man (a Herald?) wrapped in the distinctive blue-and-white striped blankets of the House of Healing.

"Tilly!" Grasping the mane, he leaned far over the Companion's neck as he trotted right up to Tilly. "What happened? You died!" He grasped her with his free hand, desperately confirming that she was real.

"Gunnar, you shouldn't be up." She took his hand in hers. "Seekar, take him back. It's cold out here."

"You're not really worried that the cold will kill me, are you?" he asked with a slightly crazed laugh. "I'm not going to stay in bed when I've lost the only comfort I have knowing that I'm going to die before you." His voice collapsed in a near sob and to Onie's surprise, Tilly did as well as she clasped his hand and arm tighter. As the now silent crowd around them watched, Gunnar, who had to be Herald Thintry, pulled back first and wiped his face.

"Tilly, tell me what happened. But, but first . . . why aren't you wearing any pants?" His eyes went down to where her bare thighs showed under her long tunic and heavy outer coat.

Tilly broke away from him. "Because I soiled them. After I-I almost had my soul ripped from my body," she whirled around and pointed, "by her!"

"Aye!" Onie's voice went higher than she meant. "I did na do'at!" She started to rise, her sore body struggling, but Luba shouted her down.

"No! Stay on the ground. You'll heal better that way. And," she turned to the Healers around her,"Walk her back if you can. Or drag her back if you have to, as long as she's touching the ground. The more of her touches ground the better. But," she shouted, "don't anyone touch her. Not until we find out what happened." More of them had arrived, including, to Onie's surprise, Healer Ingress and Chellie, peeking from behind the crowd.

There was a moment of confusion while people sorted out that Luba meant that only the Healers should not touch Onie. But first, they sent Gunnar Thintry, looking gray and spent and still astride his Companion, back to the House of Healing and to Onie's relief, Tilly joined them. But unfortunately after they left most of everyone else's attention was focused on her. The Queen's Own, Rolan, Dean Teren and most of the Herald instructors from the Collegium had joined the crowd by then.

They let her sit up. And then, with help, stand. Chellie rushed forward, darting under a Herald's arm to support her. She swayed for a moment, really having to rely on them to stand. It felt like all the blood was rushing down to her feet, but she steadied. Dean Teren only asked her if she knew anything about what had happened. She had no idea and she firmly denied that she had in any way touched Tilly's soul.

That got a smile from Teren and he sent them on to the House of Healing. But Onie paused when she saw Bron Childorn, sitting on the ground, Hyer with his head down next to him, a Healer holding his arm. The expression on his face was one that Onie had only seen a couple of times, when he sank into grief over his dead wife, the one he had been life-bonded to. Ingress assured Onie that he would be well; he and Hyer only had a shock. When the Death Bell rang, Bron moved to help, but Hyer stopped him. Since Companions did not have hands, Hyer used his teeth to grab his arm to keep him away from the body-pile of Tilly, Luba and Onie. Some physical damage was done, but Bron's arm was not broken.

"I would offer my services for his other injury," Ingress noted softly, "but pairing with a Companion is better medicine than I could ever hope to give him." She nudged Onie forward again. "Let's go."

Lilli's warm nose on her back gently prodded Onie forward. They moved slowly at first, but Onie gained strength. She was still sore, but she felt as if she could walk on her own by the time they entered the House of Healing. She briefly turned back toward Lillis, whose big horse-body would not be welcome inside. She bobbed her head encouragement and whinnied that she would remain close. Onie let Healer Ingress lead them in and down to the lower level and then into one of the small rooms there.

"Thank-you," Ingress sent Herald-Trainee Dron Oldleaf, who sometimes had kitchen duty with Onie, away. Chellie looked uncertain about staying.

"Ye kin stay, if ye wants," Onie told her.

"Oh, yes, please. Please, if I can help."

"You can help me take Onie's clothes off. Luba wants you to take off all your clothes and lie flat on your back, or wherever you've got the most bruises, as outlandish as that sounds."

Chellie looked a bit uncertain until Onie reassured her.

"We're all girls here. I don'ave na tha' any otha girl'as."

Chellie sighed her gratitude, her eyes bright.

Onie was more concerned about Ingress. "I thought Luba says ye Healers is'na s'pose ta touch me?"

"I'm a Mind Healer. I don't think her warning applies to me. Or if it does, she can complain about it later."

They sat Onie down on the floor and took off her outer clothes, Chellie neatly folding everything and putting it on the room's narrow bed. When they got down to Onie's chemise and drawers, Ingress gave her the blanket that had been folded at the end of the bed to cover herself. Then she quickly untied Onie's braid and had her stand so she could tell Luba what her injuries looked like. Chellie audibly sucked in air.

"Lotta' bruises, aye?" Holding her brown hair in front of her, Onie peered over her shoulder, but she could not see much.

"I would say so," Ingress agreed. The Healer came around front to confirm that all the bruises were on her back where Onie landed. Then she had her lie down, her bare skin on the stone floor with the blanket covering her. Ingress tilted her head as she looked down at her.

"Is that really comfortable?"

Onie shrugged. "S'always abit chilly at first, but it warms up."

"Really? And you really sleep on the hearth of your room?"

"Aye; I have a bedroll. An' I always did growin' up, too. Widow Tossem, tha wise woman back in Fair Fields, swears tha' hard beds're good fer tha back an' that straw an' down mattresses makes ye soft."

"Well, I suppose that is one way to look at it. But I can honestly tell you, Onie, that if I were to lay down naked on a cold stone floor, it would suck all the heat from me and I'd die from the cold in less than a candlemark." She sat down on the bed. "You are much more unique than you know."

Onie had nothing to say to that. Her mother and father had always said she liked to sleep on the stone hearth. Even as a little, they said that she would always cry when they tried to make her sleep in a bed or a cradle. The only time she remembered not sleeping on the hearth was during the Mage Storms, when no one could tell when all kinds of unnatural things could appear and roam at night. Her father fortified the one room where they slept, but even then Onie took the floor.

Onie knew that Ingress meant nothing bad, but her words made her sound abnormal, strange. Was she really the only person Ingress knew who slept on a hearth? She stared up at the white-washed ceiling, lit with cold snow-daylight from the room's small high window. She had never thought of it before, but Onie could not think of a single other person she knew who did. Not even Widow Tossem, who slept on board covered with a blanket.

There was not much for them to talk about while they waited the minimum candlemark that Luba had asked Ingress to wait before checking Onie's bruises again. Onie asked Chellie why she had come and the younger girl admitted that when Delias passed on the message that her surgery would be delayed at least a day she had come to the House of Healing to talk to Morlin. But when she got there and found Ingress, they heard about Onie's riding accident and then the Death Bell rang and Chellie panicked, running to Companion's Field with everyone else. She saw worried people, especially Heralds coming out of the Collegium and the Palace, running to the Field with them. Ingress assured Onie that classes would have been canceled and the whole Palace would be in an uproar about the Death Bell sounding after Tilly apparently died, but did not stay dead.

"I wonder if this has ever happened before?" Ingress speculated. Conversation died down and Onie dozed until she felt Ingress's nudge for her to get up.

Holding the blanket to her front, Onie still felt sore and stiff as Ingress positioned her in the light from the window.

"Well, god and goddess, I don't believe it."

"Aye?"

"It's a little better," Chellie told her.

"It is," Ingress agreed, "Here. Here and here." Ingress's finger touched Onie on the shoulders and the back of her thighs. "The rest of you is still heavily bruised but I would never have expected to see this much healing so soon. Unless you could Heal yourself, which is what Luba suspected. She was hoping to be able to see it, but apparently it's fatal to look too closely."

"Aye? I are'na na Healer. Na been doin' nothin' but lying here."

"No, you are no Healer. But if your Ground Gift allows you to draw real strength from the ground, then your body being able to Heal itself could be a natural manifestation." She spoke speculatively. "You've never been injured like this before?"

Onie told her about falling off Lillis when she was first Chosen. It had been summer and she had landed in a field of tall grass, but she had still needed some time to recover. She had no way of checking her backside for bruises, but she had been more saddle-sore then back sore the next day. Otherwise Onie never put herself in a position to fall anywhere. She sometimes got ordinary bumps or a cut in the kitchen, but they seemed to heal not much faster for her than for anyone else. The nearest House of Healing to her home town was in Kettlesmith. So, Luba's attempt that day had been the first time any kind of Healing had been tried on her.

"Lie back down."

Onie did, shivering a little at the cool stone before it warmed up.

"Aye? Ye goin'ta tell Luba 'bout this?" she asked as Ingress went to the door.

"Yes. I think it will cheer her up to hear she was right. And she will want to see it for herself. And," she added, "I'm going to find a nice hearth for you to sleep on. I think you will need to stay with us for a little while."

* * *

 **\- - - End Part 7**


	8. Chapter 8

**GROUNDLING 4: TRANSITIONS**

by ardavenport

 **\- - - Part 8**

* * *

The Healers had Onie stay the night at the House of Healing. They put her on the hearth in a workroom on the lower level. The room smelled of herbs and soap. Every two candlemarks they asked her to get up and they marveled at the improvement of her bruises. Someone started taking notes that they said would become part of the Healer's Library.

They agreed to let her sleep the night. But when she got up in the middle of the night to piss, she found four Healers had put cots in the workroom and were ready for her with lanterns to view the progress of her injuries. They were always impressed and sometimes she could feel their breath of her back when they looked, but they minded Luba's warning and did not touch, though Onie was sure they wanted to.

Early in the morning, the Healers were surprised and dismayed when Onie got up and stiffly made her way to a spot under one of the small windows where a pair of silver hooves stood outside. Pressed to the wall, she could just see up Lillis's long nose to her blue eyes. The good-morning look between them was as good as a sunrise for both before Onie limped back to her bed on the hearth with the Healers fussing over her and asking for another view of her bruises for their records.

She ate breakfast lying down and wondered how they were faring in the kitchen over at the Collegium. Without her to start the fires, Tamira would have to do it herself and that would make her extra cross with her helpers.

Chellie joined her for breakfast. She had taken up Onie's offer to stay in her room at the Collegium. And she shyly admitted that she had come prepared to do so when she heard that her surgery would be delayed. And that Lady Delias had commanded her to find out anything she could about what was being done about Lord Benryle's petition if she was going to be at the Palace. She excused herself as soon as they were done eating to go to her hertasi mentors and get any information she could for Lady Delias.

Later, someone produced a pair of small mirrors so that she could see what the head of Healer's Collegium was looking at when they presented her to him. Her buttocks were still black and purple, but there was only a scattering of broad brownish bruises on her back and none on her arms and legs. They asked about her appetite and seemed disappointed that she was not any hungrier than usual. She did mention that their food was a bit plain, but since it was meant for sick people she hastened to add that she did not mean to criticize it.

After that, they gave her a long linen shift to wear and left her to lie on the hearth while Healers and their Trainees did their usual tasks in the workroom. Cleaning delicate instruments. Sorting herbs into little bottles. Labeling the bottles. Sharpening knives - - Onie wondered which one of them would be used for Chellie's surgery. She had to slide to one side of the hearth because much of their cleaning required boiling things in a special pot over the hearth and they did not want to keep stepping over her.

The activity around her was interesting. And the Healers, including Luba now, still came by every two candlemarks to examine the progress of her backside. Luba was very cheerful about it, but she clasped her hands nervously before her when she spoke and Onie was sad to see her stay well out of arm's reach as if she might be contagious.

When they left her alone Onie dozed and hoped that her remaining bruises would heal quickly.

That changed after the first bell after midday. Dean Teren, Bron Childorn and Tilly entered the workroom. Onie propped herself up with an extra pillow on the wall - - her back was mostly healed - - and her visitors collected chairs while the other people in the room politely found other places to be while they talked.

They exchanged pleasantries first. Onie confirmed what the Healers had already told them; that her injury was healing quickly and would be ready to go back to her duties soon. She did not mention that she was sitting on the largest part of her injuries, but she was pretty sure that they knew.

They - - - mostly Dean Teren and Bron - - - told her what happened after the Death Bell rang.

All classes were cancelled at the Collegium for the rest of the day, but they were back in session in the morning.

The Queen had called an emergency meeting of the Heraldic Circle. No one had ever heard of the Death Bell ringing for the near-death of a Herald, but the Heraldic records were being checked.

The Queen also informed the Council - - which was already in session for the yearly review of the treasury - - that was interrupted by the Death Bell.

The Healers were understandably upset over what happened; they were still collectively trying to sort it and look in their records for anything like it happening before. They - - Luba and the Head of Healer's Collegium - - would report to the Heraldic Circle later.

After consulting with Luba, Teren, Tilly, Childorn, Lillis, Hyer and Molry, Tilly's Companion, the Queen, Elspeth, the Head Mage, and Queen's Own Talia decided that Herald Deena Tilmin (Tilly) should be assigned to investigate Onie's Ground Gift.

Eyes going to Tilly, Onie read her unhappy posture about this assignment as she spoke up about it.

"Dean, there must be better Mages, Adept Mages, who could do this better that I."

Teren shook his head. "Better Mages have already tried, ever since Onie was Chosen last summer, and we still have no idea how it works, or even what it is. Yesterday, you took one look at Onie and solved her riding problem. There is no one better than you." He smiled. "It seems that what's important isn't how strong a Mage is, but that they have the right Gifts. And it looks like that's you."

Tilly's expression soured even more. "Dean, she almost killed me. And Molry. And she almost killed Luba."

"Aye!" Onie objected from her place on the floor. "I did na try ta kill no one!"

"It doesn't matter if you _tried_ to do it, you almost did," Tilly shot back.

"Well that sounds like a pretty good reason for someone to sort out Onie's Ground Gift." Bron commented. "I can't have Healers dropping dead if they ever lay hands on my Secretary."

Tilly opened her mouth, but Teren cut her off. "He's right, Tilly. You solved one problem for Onie the first time you met her, but you uncovered something else far more serious. You have more than a Mage Gift and you clearly have some insight into her abilities that all the other Mages here lack."

"But I don't," she denied. "I didn't actually 'see' that her Companion wasn't Grounded whenever she mounted. Any Mage can 'see' with Mage-Sight the aural flares when a person isn't Grounded. I didn't see any of that in either of them."

"But you said she looked 'wrong' when you looked at them," Bron pressed.

"Well, yes," she admitted, "they looked . . . lopsided. But that's because she has worse seat I've ever seen. She looks like a sack of turnips in the saddle; everyone else could see that. But when you told me she had some kind of 'Ground Gift' - - - whatever that is - - - then it was obvious that her Companion had 'Ground' in the saddle and she wasn't compensating for it. It was obvious."

"Not to any of those other Mages," Bron told her.

"He's right, Tilly." Teren told her in a more stern voice before she could complain again. "Even if you didn't 'see' what was wrong with Onie's riding with Mage-Sight, you still saw it when everyone else didn't. Everyone else who tried before you has failed. We need you to do this."

Tilly's posture turned a little less sullen. Onie wondered if she kept refusing, could the Queen order her to do it? She was a Herald after all. But Teren clearly wanted her to agree voluntarily.

She did, nodding her ascent.

"I'll do what I can. But I need everything the Mages have already done. All their records. All their research. Everything."

Teren rubbed his chin. "I don't know if they wrote anything down. At least I didn't see anything."

"What? They didn't write anything down? Record what they did to find out what a Ground Gift is?"

Teren shrugged. "Elspeth just told us that they threw everything they had at her, illusions, compulsions, deceptions. It all failed. That Hawkbrother Mage, Sunwing, got himself banished when he tried a curse talisman on her. It failed like everything else, but it could have been very dangerous if Onie had lost it or even shown it to anyone else. They're still looking into where that talisman came from."

"So, all they did was just randomly shoot spells at her and they all failed. And then they just gave up. They didn't try to understand what a Ground Gift is or consult the Library or Archives to see if anyone else has seen it?"

"I think somebody did consult the Archives, but Elspeth reported that they didn't find anything."

"Do you know what records they searched? Books? Parchments? Scrolls?"

"The Healers wrote all kinds'a'thin's 'bout tha bruises on me backside from me fall, yest'rday," Onie told them.

Tilly squeezed her eyes shut as if she was getting a headache. "Yes, I'm sure that the Healers' scribblings about your bruised bottom will be very helpful."

Onie returned Tilly's sarcasm with a scowl, but the other woman did not see it. She got up from her chair.

"I'll talk to Elspeth. Start somewhere." She marched out without a backward glance.

"Hmmmm," Bron appraised after she was gone and her footsteps faded down the hallway. "I like her. She doesn't waste time. Is she really as smart as you say she is?"

Teren nodded. "Oh, yes. Best student in the Collegium I've ever seen. Chosen when she was ten and she was already more learned than people twice her age. Her father was a town clerk and she had access to books. He'd already trained her to be a scribe. She has a beautiful hand. Her field reports are magnificent.

"She's been on circuit since she was seventeen, almost seven years now. Headstrong, but Gunnar rounded out her training very well." They fell silent for a moment before Bron moved on.

"You said she had more than a Mage Gift?"

"Yes, Earthsense and a bit of Weather Foresight, though that's not as strong as her other Gifts. And if she ever shouts at you in Mind Speech, you will feel it."

Bron chuckled. "Well, sounds like she's more suited to sort out Onie's Ground Gift than any of those other Mages."

"She could'a be a bit nicer 'bout it."

They both looked down at her and Onie was sure they'd forgotten she was there.

"She goin'ta try out all'er tricks on me like'em other Mages, aye?"

"I think she's going to talk to all the Mages first. Then she'll find out whatever she can at the Library and the Archives. Tilly always goes for the books first. Then she'll write it all down. And maybe after that she'll talk to you. That might keep her busy for a few days. That's probably best since she has to stay at the Collegium anyway."

"'Cause'er partner's tha Herald who's sick. Might be dyin'"

Bron gave her a sapphire glare. "Never known you to gossip, Onie."

"Not gossip tha Herald Thinty showed up in'a Field after tha Death Bell. An Tilly an Thintry is tha Heralds come from'a north who ruled fer Lord Drogon an now'is neigbhbor Lord wants'tha Queen ta give over some'a Drogon's land 'cause Drogon burned out'is settlers."

"Oh," his brows rose, "so, it's family gossip then." He slapped his knee and rubbed his long nose. "You got a lot more than family when you tied yourself to that Chellie girl. How are you related again?"

"Sisters. We talked'bout it. Agreed tha's wha'we was."

"Sisters." Bron repeated thoughtfully. "So, now your sister's family is party to a dispute that is going to be presented to the Queen. And one of the Heralds who are witness to it has just been assigned to you to root out what your Ground Gift is."

"S'pose so."

Bron glanced toward Teren. "I don't suppose this will interfere with Tilly's work on Onie's Ground Gift?

"Noooo. Tilly only has to give her testimony. They'll probably come here for Gunnar's testimony and submit his written answers to the Queen. Assuming that she wants to hear the petition in the first place. She could just defer to the Heralds' decision and that will be the end of it." Teren held his hands up. "This is the first I've heard about it."

"Lady Delias is wantin' Chellie ta finish dresses she kin wear in'fron'a'tha Queen ta tell'er side fer her father. An she's wantin' Chellie ta find out what she'kin 'bout tha other Lord's case while she's at tha Palace."

"And you're related to this Lady Delias how?" Bron persisted.

Onie had to think a moment. "Well, if Lady Delias's married ta Chellie's brother, than she's me an Chellie's sister by marriage."

"Is this relevant?" Teren asked.

"No, not really," Bron admitted. "I've just been wondering about that end of Onie's family, especially since they seem to be creating the most trouble. Don't you have a nephew wound up in all this, too?"

"Aye, me nephew Sami, back home. Looks jus' like Chellie. He's me sister Mec's son, an Chellie's older brother. Tha happen when Mec was in Haven, but she come home wit'im an' no husband an wouldna tell who it was. I only finds out when I comes here an meets Chellie."

"That kid Saston isn't related to Lord Drogon is he?"

"Na. He jus' takes me name, 'cause'ee don' want'is uncle's or ta have nothin' ta do wit' him. Tha Crown's'is guardian now, him bein' Chosen an'all.

He glanced back at the Dean. "Onie told me that little wasn't so little after all."

"Yes, Onie brought that to my attention right away." Teren pushed his chair back. "And as charming as your family and friends are, Onie, we have other duties. Aren't you supposed to be attending the Queen's Council, Herald Childorn?"

Groaning Bron got up as well. "I was hoping you'd forget about that. And Onie's family problems are just starting to get interesting. Far more entertaining than mine." He stretched. "Time to go back to our sadistic sovereign's painful lesson on the value of taxes." That got a chuckle from Teren. they both promised to see Onie at some undefined time later and left.

* * *

 **\- - - End Part 8**


	9. Chapter 9

**GROUNDLING 4: TRANSITIONS**

by ardavenport

 **\- - - Part 9**

* * *

The next day, Onie got a message, not from Tilly, but from her sickly partner, Gunnar Thintry. He wanted to talk to her. She hurried from her class on Heraldic Duties to the House of Healing. The Healer-Trainee in the entryway looked doubtful, but admitter her when she presented the note.

Gunnar was in a ground floor room with many beds lined up in rows. A little more than half were occupied with the sick or injured; the others were neatly made with fresh bedding ready for use, folded on top. The long room was bright with windows and sunlight, but there were heavy curtains and outside shutters that could be closed to keep out the cold. She walked warily past the rows of beds; the room was spotless, but the herbs and ammonia did not quite mask the lingering scents of bitter potions, blood, human waste and piss. A Healer pointed Onie toward a line of screens, wooden frames draped with pale blue cloth.

Shyly stepping around the screens, she found the man she had seen in Companion's Field a few days ago. He looked even more unwell than he had then, his cheeks sunken, his skin shaded gray. Outside the window she glimpsed Seekar, bright white against the bushes, lurking nearby.

He appeared to be dozing but he opened his eyes and blinked in her direction. They were red-rimmed and watery.

"Ah," he lifted a thin arm from under the blanket covering him. She took a seat on a stool next to his bed.

"Thank you for coming."

"I couldna' say no 'bout comin'."

He gazed at her and she waited, willing to allow the sick and probably dying Herald to look as long as he wished.

"So, you are the 'project' that the Dean has assigned to Tilly."

"Aye. Though I don' think'a meself as no 'project'."

He chuckled gently, as if he did not have strength for a real laugh. "No, I suppose not. Not anymore than Tilly was for me," he finished more to himself than her.

"Tilly is convinced you almost killed her and Molry out there. And that Healer."

"I didna try ta kill no one," Onie affirmed.

"I know. I was there and Seekar has been keeping me informed. But since the Queen herself, and Mage Elspeth have requested that she sort out your 'Ground Gift', I wanted to meet you."

"Didna know tha Queen ask'd'er special. She did na look happy ta do it, when she come ta me wit Dean Teren 'bout it."

"No, Tilly thinks you are a menace, even if you did not mean to kill anyone." He smiled, a little life coming into his eyes. "She cannot understand how anyone like you could ever be Chosen. She thinks you're dumb as a bag of rocks and you ride like a sack of turnips. And that your head is so hard that neither magic nor Mind Speech can get in and not even a fall from a Companion at full gallop can dent it." He smiled. "She went on for half a candlemark before I could even get a word in."

"Aye? Don' sound so nice ta me," she complained.

Thintry nodded. "No. From your point of view, not. But in spite of Tilly's resistance to this assignment, it has seriously caught her interest. Digging into the secrets of a Gift that no one has ever heard of . . ." His smile broadened. "And for that, I am very, very grateful to you."

Surprised, Onie sat back. "Aye? Ye's grateful fer Tilly thinkin' me stupid?"

Thintry's chuckle was cut off by a cough and he clutched his stomach, but the smile did not leave his eyes. "No. Not that." He paused, lying back on his pillows. "I'm grateful for the distraction. For Tilly. She may resist this assignment, but she is clearly excited by it. And it will give her a much healthier path to go down than fixating on me while I die."

Onie's next complaint about Tilly died on her lips.

"Ye knows that ye's goin'ta die, then?"

"I have a growth," he's fingers touched his middle, "in my liver. Many of them actually. And there are seeds of it in my hips, my gut, my bones. My lungs. The Healers say that this malady is uncommon, but when it has become so widespread, there is nothing in their power that can hold it back. A team of Healers, working together might be able to give me strength to fight it. But the growths always return, worse than before." He shook his head. "I will not die slowly, weak and in pain." He lifted his head. "I have chosen to take the righteous path."

Onie's eyes widened, but she had no reply. If the Healers could not help him, then he might as well throw himself on the mercy of whichever deity he chose. Gunnar Thintry's smile turned sad and wistful. "Seekar tells me that death is only a transition. That we are always in transition, turning from one thing to another, child to adult, ignorant to wise, . . . innocent to Chosen . . . " He shook his head.

"Death is a transition that I do not want to make. But I will not allow that to ruin the life I still have." He extended a hand to a table next to his bed and picked up a cup from among a small collection of bottles, packets and bowels. He took a sip. He grimaced, but downed more of it.

"I will take in nothing but the Healers' horrible medicines and water until the gods take me. Or spare me, if they wish. Eating is . . . unpleasant now anyway."

"Aye. I sp'ose I'd do tha same. If I had what ye has got."

"So, this is my dying man's request to you, Onie Thatcher. Keep Tilly busy. Keep her excited about whatever your Ground Gift is. Keep her energies focused on you. She cannot stop my death and she can only go astray to unhealthy places if she tries. And if she has no other place to devote her energies, she will try."

"Don' see how she could do nothin' 'bout somethin'tha Healers can't."

"That would not stop her from trying." He shook his head. "And she is very clever. Too clever. I fear to even speculate about what she might try." His eyes, bright and intense, found hers. "But she can't go astray if she's too busy with your Ground Gift.

Onie nodded. "There isna any Mage here who'as been able ta do anythin' wit' it. But Tilly, she see'd somethin' in me ridin', right away." Onie told him about how Tilly told Lillis about being un-Grounded, and how that led to both of them attempting a jump when they weren't ready for it. It made him laugh. And then cough. The sound attracted a Healer, who hustled over to fuss over the sick man and give Onie a critical glare.

She pushed her chair back and got up. She needed to go to her Weapons Training class anyway. "I's do as much as I kin, wit' Tilly."

"Thank-you. And," he raised a hand, and she turned back, "I suppose I might reward you for your help. I give you leave to tell others what I told you about my illness." The Healer frowned his disapproval, but Thintry ignored him. "I went to the Collegium, and everyone there will be full of speculation about me. I see no reason to keep secrets about it now."

"Aye."

Onie left. She did not have any time to talk about Gunnar Thintry with any of her fellow classmates between her nausea-inducing run around the salle and drills in striking straw-filled dummies with poles. But Onie did wonder, if Tilly could see what was wrong with her riding, could she help with her running, too? Even if she couldn't, the attempt would help fulfil Onie's promise to her dying partner.

Still sweaty from the workout, she decided to stop by Dean Teren's office to ask about what Tilly would be doing. But she did not expect to find Tilly there.

She could hear the young woman's complaints coming out of the Dean's office. Teren's clerk was out, his desk empty and the door to the inner office open.

"I can't believe it. They didn't write down anything. No records, no notes. They just flung spells at her and threw their hands up when they didn't work. Didn't they do any research?"

"I think that a couple of the younger Mage-Trainees were tasked with that, but they didn't find anything about a Ground Gift," Teren's voice answered.

"Did they write down where they looked? The books? Scrolls? The Heraldic Archives?"

"I don't really know. I'm sure they'll tell you if you ask."

Onie peered around the door, pushing it further open. Seated at his desk cluttered with books, scrolls and parchments, along with a half-eaten plate of biscuits and dried fruit, Dean Teren looked up at Herald Tilly, who had one hand on her hip and the other on her forehead.

"Teren, if I'm - - " she started, putting her hand down. Her hazel eyes spotted Onie. "What are you doing here?"

Annoyed by her curt welcome, Onie came into the office. "Since ye's trying ta work out me Ground Gift, I thoughts ye'd want ta talk ta tha source."

Tilly's mouth gaped and she just stared for a moment as if Onie had suddenly sprouted horns.

"When I need to speak to you, I'll call you. Right now, I'm too busy sorting out the haphazard mess that the Mages here left when they supposedly tried to figure out what a 'Ground Gift' is." Her careful enunciation made it clear that she doubted that Onie had any kind of Gift at all. And Onie wasn't sure she wasn't right.

"Dean, I need an office," she turned back to the head of the Collegium. "And at least one assistant. And," she leaned forward, hands planted on the desk, "access to all our books and records and histories on magic. All of them."

Puzzlingly, Teren did not answer. He gazed up at her and even more surprising, she backed down from his non-reply.

"Or at least someone who can have access to all the archives, Dean, to help me. If there are any records of a Ground Gift, they could be anywhere."

"Maybe I's could help?" Onie offered. "Since it's bein' me Ground Gift, I'd know better'en anyone whats ta look fer."

Tilly rolled her eyes. "No, Trainee Thatcher, I'll need a bit more than half a brain for help with this - - "

"Herald Deena Tilmin," Teren interrupted, his voice loud and commanding. "I appreciate that our previous efforts examining Herald-Trainee Thatcher's Ground Gift may have been lacking, even disorganized, but you will be working _with_ her. I think it best that you start by being civil to each other." His words were addressed to both of them, but his eyes stayed on Tilly who silently glared through the dressing down. After a moment composing herself, Tilly spoke to Onie without looking at her.

"I don't need to talk you, yet. I've got at least a couple more days research just to get started on this. I'll contact you after that."

Clearly pleased with Tilly's change in attitude, Teren promised her an office and help. They were both excused. Onie headed toward the Collegium kitchen, but Tilly stopped her.

"I do need to talk to your Companion."

"Lillis'll be wit' me at ridin' class after next meal. An ye kin talk'ta'er any times ye like. As long as ye's polite."

Tilly's lips thinned. She had a strong jawline and perfect skin, tanned from spending time riding on circuit.

"You know that Lillis is the one who saved us. Pulled us back from death."

"Aye. I was thinkin' ye's already talks ta'er 'bouts'it."

"Yes, but she doesn't know what happened any more than we do. Just that Luba's soul was ripped away in an instant. Then me. Then Molry. And Lillis grabbed onto Molry, but she was not pulled into whatever had us. And she brought us back and whatever anchored her must be connected to her bond with you." She spoke faster, with more intensity and staring past Onie at the mystery she was assigned to solve. "With your Ground Gift . . . I'll need to talk to her again. After I know more."

"Ye's kin talk ta her any times ye like," Onie repeated because it did not seem like Tilly was really listening to her. "An' whiles ye's abouts it ye kin tell me what happ'ned, too." Onie left her in the hallway. She was not very angry with Tilly; she just had to get to kitchen duty; The Collegium's perpetually bad-tempered Cook hated it when any Trainee was late for their duties and Onie did not want to give her any more than her usual reasons to be unpleasant to everyone.

It turned out that Tamira was in a relatively good humor. The beef stew for midday meal had turned out very well and she was free with telling everyone how she did it. Possibly Tamira just liked to brag more than she wanted to keep her recipe secrets, but she had always been willing to share what she knew. And if Onie just followed her direction and stared her down whenever her temper sparked when it looked like Onie might do something wrong, she learned a great deal.

Her face, hands and arms scrubbed, a scarf tied over her hair, she helped the other two Herald-Trainees load the last of the food onto the dumb waiter and rang the bell for the others upstairs to winch it up to the Common Room. After Tamira had gone to her office with her meal, Onie sat down with the other Trainees to eat.

They politely asked after her health (Cook had not) and she assured them that she only had a few bruises left from her fall.

After a moment of silent eating the savory stew, Clem quietly spoke about what they really wanted to know.

"They say you rang the Death Bell."

"I didna do'at," she denied but realized that something like that might have happened, even if she did not do it on purpose. She explained about Luba, Tilly and Molry nearly dying, possibly because of her Ground Gift when Luba tried Healing her. And then about Lillis pulling them out of it. They were amazed but that brought up the other thing that everyone in the Collegium was quietly talking about, Tilly's partner, Gunnar Thintry. She told them what he had told her and they listened, forgetting the plates of food before them while she talked. That brought out some news from them.

"Borum is going out on circuit with Herald Grader." Swan piped up. "To take over for Tilly and Thintry."

"Aye? Ye's been wantin' ta go."

Borum Cylittle nodded, his blue eyes grave. "Yeah. But it was supposed to be after winter. With Herald Gordlin, and to the south. But now Cheeter's going with him. Grader and I have to take over for Tilly and Thintry."

"When ye leavin'?"

"Two days."

Onie looked back in surprise. "Aye, that's soon."

He put his spoon down and pushed his dusty blond bangs away from his eyes. "They said I'm ready, but . . . I wasn't really expecting to have to fill in on another Herald's circuit."

"Well, 'ats'tha life we's got now," Onie told the others. "If tha Queen needs us ta go out, we's go. An' I think ye's ready ta give out'er law as good as Herald Grader, once ye get tha hang'ov'it."

"But if Grader goes, then who will teach history?" Swan wondered aloud.

"They said Herald Undran," Borum answered. "I heard she's taught it before."

"She'll teach that an' Geography?" Onie was in both classes.

Borum's brow wrinkled. "I don't know. They usually have only one person teaching one kind of class." They speculated about it over their food, but soon enough they had to finish their meal when the bell from upstairs rang that the first load of dirty dishes was coming down and they had to get back to work.

The rest of Onie's day was ordinary, except for the people wishing her good health. Neither Onie nor Lillis saw or heard from Tilly, so whatever she was doing did not involve them. By dinner, word of Herald Thintry's illness had spread throughout the Collegium and Palace. Even Cook Tamira was subdued after hearing that there was a dying Herald in the House of Healing and she sent her helpers off early while she finished the last of the kitchen cleaning.

When Onie returned to her room, Chellie was already there. She had been staying there, with Onie's permission, to keep out of the way of Lady Delias's activities over her father's defense before the Queen.

Between the Death Bell, her fall and Tilly, Onie had quite forgotten about Lady Delias's problems. She could not do anything about them anyway, but Chellie was involved and was eagerly helping in any way she could. Two dresses, suitable for appearing in Court, had been completed and she was confident of finishing a third before Healer Morlin's first surgery, which would take place the day after the morrow. They were even going to start new dresses for both Delias and Chellie from cloth that had been found, undamaged, in a chest in Munthunt House's attic. Chellie filled Onie in on the details.

Delias's friend in the Guard, Korey Mineeladath was trying to find Lord Drogon's missing rangers, a detail that Onie was just learning. Tomet Benryle's argument with Heralds Tilly and Thintry had been that Drogon had been negligent in allowing the settlement to go on for so long, so the land should be forfeit. But when Tilly and Thintry decreed that only material compensation be given, and then Drogon burned the buildings down anyway, now Benryle was arguing that the land should be forfeit because of the wanton destruction and because the Heralds had made their decision without the testimony of Drogon's border rangers who had inexplicably gone missing.

Korey and Delias had concluded that the only way a settlement could have gone unnoticed on the edges of Munthunt lands for nearly a year was if one or both of the rangers were bribed by Lord Benryle. But once the settlement was discovered and with the Heralds' ruling that the land remain with Drogon, the most logical place for the missing rangers, flush with their bribes, to flee in winter would be Haven where they could disappear in the crowds and move on to new lives in the spring. Fortunately, Drogon had named the missing rangers in his letter. Lady Delias knew who they were and what they looked like and Korey had thoroughly questioned Drogon's messenger before he left. So, they had enough information for members of the City Guard to make subtle inquiries about the possible fugitives.

Chellie told all of this while she worked on the hem of the last dress while Onie looked at her maps for the next day's geography class. She supposed that Chellie's chatter was a distraction, but she did not think she would do any better without it. And she was at least now sure that she could at least recall where everything was in the north around Lord Drogon's lands. The drama between Drogon and Benryle seemed to make the lines, labels and squiggles on the map more like real forests and rivers and hills that people would fight over and that made it easier for her to remember them.

As Chellie reported that she had not been able to provide much more Palace intelligence to Delias other than that the Queen would allow a meeting to listen to the evidence in the dispute, Onie pushed the map aside and her eyes fell upon the clean parchment, ink and pens on the desk.

"Chellie," she interrupted. "I's not tol' me parents tha' I'm ye guardian yet."

She looked up from the tightly gripped pink hem. "You haven't?"

"Na. I didna think there'us things 'bout ye I could tell, an' I didna want'em ta think they'uz responsible fer ye, cause theys na. But since we's sure we're sisters now an' ye's set apprenticin' wit' tha hertasi here, an ye's ta be cut, so ye's can stay a woman, I's thinkin' I should write'em an' ye could tell me wha'ta say 'bout yeself?"

Chellie almost stabbed herself with her sewing needle when she clutched the dress to her, but after she properly put it and her work aside she jumped up to hug Onie.

"Thank-you," she breathed when she could speak again. "Except for Delias, I don't think anyone in my family who has been so nice to me. I mean," she looked down at herself, "I mean, 'me' as I really am."

"Well, I can't say as me brothers an' sister back in Fair Fields will think'a ye as their sister. 'Specially since they n'ver met'ye, but, " She selected a pen and uncorked a bottle of black ink, "we kin start wit' a good introduction."

* * *

 **\- - - End Part 9**


	10. Chapter 10

**GROUNDLING 4: TRANSITIONS**

by ardavenport

 **\- - - Part 10**

* * *

A few days later, Chellie got her most fervent wish. Healer Morlin performed the first surgery to remove her masculinity. Onie had visited her early that morning before class when she reported to the Healer's so they could examine the progress of the bruises on her back (they were all nearly gone). After her last class of the day, she and Saston would take her back to Munthunt House for dinner. Onie did not have kitchen duty that night; it was Cook Tamira's day off and there was never a shortage of Herald-Trainees who would take kitchen duty when one of the Palace cooks was in charge of preparing the meals.

The rest of her day happened nearly as usual.

Except for equitation. For the first time, Onie and Lillis were joining the rest of the class. Running, quick turns, relay drills, it was everything that they had been missing. Of course Ezor forbid them jumping of any kind until Tilly was available again to watch them, but that was a minor and understandable restriction. She was actually sorry when it all ended and they headed back to Companion's Stable. Lillis gave her a heartfelt wink as the groom rushed up to unsaddle her.

No bruises at all.

Onie went to wash up for her next class and even her least favorite subject could not spoil her good mood. Arriving early, she found a surprise, lurking in the back row of the lecture room.

"Aye? Ye don't need ta' be in'is class? Thought ye was only takin' Law?" She stood before Bron Childorn, slouching low in his seat.

"I'm not exactly 'taking it'. After Winter Festival, I'm supposed to be teaching it."

"Aye? Hows'at happen?"

"You're short a teacher. With Grader going on circuit and Undran filling in for History, Teren picked me to teach this. This might be his revenge for me running off Filamore."

"Ye ever teach any class afore?"

"No. I've just been nearly everywhere a caravan can go in Velgarth and probably bragged about it too much within Teren's hearing. But I've got a choice between teaching this class or sitting through her Majesty's annual account-balancing torture meetings." He folded his arms over his chest; the chair creaked as he sat back. "I'll take this in a heartbeat. You better take your usual seat. Undran will his have her eye on me, making sure I learn 'properly' how to do this. It'll be up there after Winterfest."

Onie nodded. The class went as usual except for Herald Undran's announcement about Childron 'observing' their class before he took over after winter break.

Bron was looking a bit grumpy by the end of class. But he did confirm with a satisfied smirk that they did not need to study for law class because it was canceled until they found a new instructor, presumably after Winter Break. Onie told him that about taking Chellie back home for dinner.

"Hmmm," he reflected as they walked down the steps of the Collegium. "So, the Healers are finally making her into a real girl, eh?"

"Aye?" Onie did not know how to respond. She had deliberately avoided saying anything about Chellie's actual condition in deference to her desire to be known only as Chellie and not the former-Roston Jestren. But her reaction only made Bron chuckle.

"It's a bit obvious that she's a boy no matter what she's wearing. At least in body. Don't worry, I won't mention it to anyone. I've seen this before; even had a clerk once who wore dresses. He treated my money like it was his own and accounted for everything to the last copper. And an honest clerk is worth more than gold; who cares what they wear? But there are parts of this world where he'd have been tossed in a river and tied down with a boulder. Or worse. By his own family."

"Chellie's family up north weren't much better."

"Yeah, they think their own way, up north. Well, she'll do better here in Haven. Between the Hawkbrothers and the Iftellers, people here are learning to see things in different ways."

They parted and Onie went to the stables to get Lillis. Saston and Capar joined them with an offer of help for Chellie, but Onie suspected that Saston was just as motivated to go see Reed again. But Chellie was happy to see them all when they arrived at the House of Healing. Chellie looked a bit pale, wrapped in her dark cloak and she clutched a packet of herbs and list of instructions from the Healers. And she was practically glowing from within with pure joy.

Lillis obligingly lowered herself to the ground so Onie could help Chellie up to sit side-saddle and then Onie mounted in front. It was getting dark, the sky overcast and gray by the time they reached Munthunt House, though it was not very late, the days shortened with the oncoming winter. But they were surprised when they found the cook, Ressa, and Reed, the only ones home.

"The Lady Delias has gone out with Sargent Korey and Frena is helping them. They're looking for some men of Lord Drogon's who might be in Haven, but they don't want them to know they're looking for them. Those men been up to no good, but I don't know what. Something to do with this land business that the Lady has to appear before the Queen for."

Chellie immediately wanted to grab a candle and go upstairs to finish the last of the new dresses for Delias so she could be presentable in Court, though Onie was a little doubtful about how useful working on another dress would be. They already had two dresses and one under-dress at an 'acceptable' state, simple, but unadorned and Delias could only wear one dress at a time to Court. But Onie nodded to Saston and Reed who scampered off to Reed's room. Sighing, she went upstairs with Chellie who took them carefully and Onie breathed deeply to placate her queasy stomach with her usual mental promise that she would not stay on the second floor for long.

The sun room was dark and drafty; all the sewing work lay on a square table and in a big basket on the floor. Chellie started lighting lamps and candles from the one she carried.

"Ye don' needs me fer this, does ye?"

Chellie looked back at her with a look of confusion, but then shock.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I'll just grab all this and we'll take it downstairs." She hurriedly shoveled dresses and threads and a box of sewing and embroidery tools into the basket before reversing her lamp-lighting. Onie took the basket and Chellie grabbed some more odds and ends before leaving.

They settled in the sitting room, lighting all the lamps so they could work, Chellie on embroidery, Onie on a couple of seams that Chellie gave her to finish. The girl sighed when Onie asked her how she was feeling. For the first time in her life, she did not need to dread the next day, that every sunrise would make her more into a hairy, brawny man. She did not want to wait to have the rest of her manhood removed, but the Healers would not do it until her first surgery was completely healed. It had been the most important one and it had given her the new luxury of being able to wait. Onie had a gruesome thought about what the Healers did with the parts they amputated from her, or any other patient when it was necessary, but she did not say anything about it.

"Uh, ye wants ta do that tha' way?"

Chellie looked down at the blue fabric and yellow decoration stretched on a portable frame. "Oh, no! What am I doing?" The pattern was reversed from what was on the rest of the hem and Onie did not think the stitching was as tidy as the other parts done earlier.

"Maybe ye should rest, na do this now?"

Hesitating over her mistake with a pair of fine snippers, she relented and put the work aside before she did any more damage. She admitted that the site of her surgery hurt in a very uncomfortable place, and she was getting a headache. Onie got up when Chellie admitted that she had left the list and herbs upstairs when they went up to get the sewing.

"Ye stay here," Onie ordered when Chellie started to rise. "Put ye feet up. I's been practicin' me stair-climbin'. S'time fer me ta use it." Taking a candle, she returned to the sun room. She spied the pouch with Chellie's herbs and list of direction on the work table. Scooping them up and taking a deep breath, Onie headed back down. She told Chellie again to put her feet up on the divan on her way to the kitchen to see if Ressa had any broth. There was meat stew in a pot over the fire; salty and watery with soggy vegetables. Onie had to admit that it might not be much better than her own stew back at the Ox and Cart in Fair Fields before she'd learned so much from Cook Tamira about stock and seasoning and frying the vegetables before putting them into the pot. She tentatively offered to show Ressa some of the things that she had learned in the Collegium kitchen. After working with Tamira, Onie was wary of offending a possibly territorial cook. But Ressa's reaction was the opposite.

"You could teach me how they cook - - at the Palace?" she asked with a touch of wonder.

"Aye. Not sure if tha Queen eats'tha same as what we makes in'a Collegum, but all tha Heralds do." Ressa gratefully accepted and Onie promised to come early the next time she visited for dinner so she could help in the kitchen. Ressa got a bowl of mostly broth while Onie measured out the herb mixture according to the directions on the scrap of parchment with the pouch.

Onie took the stew broth and herbs back to Chellie and made sure she drank all of the medicine and at least some of the broth. Chellie admitted that Ressa was not a very good cook and that one of the reasons why she went to work with the hertasi so diligently was so she could eat in the Collegium Common Room with Saston. Onie promised to teach Ressa as much as she could.

"Would ye like a blanket?" Onie asked when Chellie had as much stew-water as she could take. She nodded and Onie took the bowl back and asked Ressa where a blanket was. Fortunately, there was one in a cabinet on the first floor.

"Thank-you," Chellie pulled the blanket up over her pale blue dress. "I - I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't helped me."

"I'm na tha only one. Lady Delias gots ye here ta Haven."

"I know. But-but, you were the first person, who just looked at me. And saw me as a girl."

Onie shrugged. "Well, it was jus' obvious."

Chellie's eyes turned bright. Then she burst into tears. Happy tears, full of emotion that could not be contained. Onie leaned close and she practically leapt up into a fierce embrace.

"Thank-you." she whispered.

Onie wiped her eyes and let Chellie have as much hug as she wanted. But finally she did pull away and lay back on the divan and wiped her face on an edge of the blanket.

"Mus'be those woman herbs, aye?"

Chellie laughed. "Must be."

Feeling like they had passed some milestone, Onie looked about for something else to talk about.

"Ye goin'ta go back ta class at tha Colleg'um?"

She shook her head. "No. Delias said I don't have to. And I'd rather just keep apprenticing with Miro and Goro. I only pretended to be scholarly back in Munthunt Manor so I wouldn't have to be with the boys. Delias reads more than I do. And then I got assigned to be her servant, because Lord Drogon forbid her from having any women servants."

"Aye? Why'd'ee do that? Never heard'a na high borne lady na havin' na womin waitin' on'er."

She frowned, cringed. "Um, Lady Delias, um, she likes women . . . "

"Aye. Includin' me own sister." Onie could think of no way she could ever ask her sister, Mec, about that part of her time in Haven. If she could ever find the words to ask at all, it would have to be in person.

"Well, there was a problem with a maid . . . . Lady Delias took her to bed and then she started asking for special favors and ordering the other staff around. Lord Drogon found out about it and was so angry that he forbid Delias from ever having another woman for a servant."

"An' tha's how ye gots ta try on Lady Delias's dresses?"

Chellie blushed.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

They both startled from the loud knocking at the door. Onie got up, but Ressa beat her to the front door. In the front entryway, Herald Tilly stamped her feet and brushed snow off her white cloak.

"There you are, Thatcher. What in all the frozen hells are you doing here? I need to talk to you." The question and impatient demand came out one after another.

"I's brought Chellie back here from tha House'a'Healin'. An' what's ye need ta ask'a'me?"

"Not here. I need you back at the Collegium."

"Now? Chellie na feeling well and Lady Delias isna back yet."

"No. I shouldn't even be here. I have to give testimony before the Queen about a Land dispute between the Lord of this House and another. I can't look like I'm biased for either party. Now get your cloak; we're leaving."

Surprised, Onie took a step back. "Well, if yes gots ta go, ye kin go. I's follow ye after tha others gets back."

Tilly responded with her own surprise. "We need to leave now."

"An' I says, ye can leave. I's can follow ye later," Onie replied in a louder voice. "Where's ye wants ta meet?" Ressa started backing up towards the kitchen.

Her open-mouthed gape was interrupted by some unseen voice and her unfocused gaze went toward the back of the house.

"Are you expecting anyone? There are three people coming in from the back."

"Aye. Lady Delias an'er friend from tha Guard and Reed's Ma."

"Ugh." Tilly suddenly reached out, grabbing Onie's arm and pulling her toward the door. "Come on. I am not going to listen to any more sides and arguments about this before I give testimony before the Queen."

Onie stumbled after Tilly, out the door, down the path, past the dormant plants and gardens and around to the back

"Onie?" she heard Chellie's voice calling from inside the house. Halfway around the house, she struggled out of Tilly's grasp and stumbled in the dark, the only light from the kitchen windows; the sky was black and overcast.

"Ye gots no business draggin' me away from'ere."

"Oh, don't I, Trainee," Tilly shot back

"No, ye don'ts. I gots nothin' ta do wit' this land business - - "

They both turned at the sound of approaching footsteps. They saw the Companions first, bright white in the lamplight, picking their way through the barren bushes and patches of snow and then the two people carrying the lanterns with a third shadowy figure behind them.

"Onie?" Korey Mineeladath asked, his blue City Guard cloak and hat black in the yellow lamplight. "What are you doing out here? Is Chellie back? Is she alright?"

"Aye - - "

"I'm sorry, Herald-Trainee Thatcher and I have to leave, immediately. We have work back at the Collegium."

Hrrrrumph.

"Ye don'need Saston wit'me, do ye?" Onie asked in response to Capar question.

"Saston?" Tilly paused, confused only for a moment. "Oh, the little. He's too young to stay; he has to come with us, too."

"Not as little as ye thinks."

As if called (and they probably were by Capar Mindspeaking Saston) Saston and Reed, with Chellie wrapped in a blanket, came around the side of the house.

"Korey, ask them, or I will." Delias hissed loudly, but her friend shushed her.

"Not now, Deel. Herald," he lifted his lantern. "I'm sorry you can't stay for dinner. We would be honored to have you at our table. But if you can't stay, we do have a humble request - - - "

"Oh, stop wasting time, Korey." Delias pushed past him. "Herald, we need to get to the Heraldic Archives, immediately, so we can prove that those thieving Benrlyes, mmm-mm-mmmhh! - - -."

Delias kicked up her feet as Korey practically lifted her off the ground, pulling her away from Tilly, his hand covering her mouth. Onie hastily grabbed her fallen lantern from the ground before it went out.

"We were hoping that we could have access to the Heraldic Archives - - " Korey continued, still struggling with the Lady Delias. Her teeth bit into his hand, but got nowhere through his glove and he only tightened his grip. " - - to prepare our petition before the Queen. We need permission to research similar actions by the Benryles - - "

Tilly held up her hands and backed away. "I already have heard too much from you and the Benryles. You must understand that my testimony before the Queen must be impartial. I cannot take sides."

"Mmmmm?" Delias's eyes widened and she stopped struggling.

"Uh, Please excuse me, you are Herald . . . ?"

"Tilly," she answered. "And I am only here to collect these two Trainees."

"I's still gots somethin' ta say bouts that." Onie objected.

"No you don't, Trainee," Tilly countered. "I need to talk to you back at the Collegium. You shouldn't even be here. I can't have any reason for anyone to think that my testimony is biased. I've already told Benryle's man that and - - "

Delias broke free from Korey, sliding out of her cloak, her knit cap coming off, her long wavy red hair falling out all around her face. "You've talked to the Benryles then," she accused.

"No. They tried," Tilly denied, "but I had them sent away from the Palace." The two women were nose to nose, neither apparently willing to back down. Delias was only a little shorter than Tilly who was broader in the shoulders. Delias was also wearing her work dress with the bodice cut lower than Onie remembered her wearing with the top of bosom exposed.

"Good. That's no less than what they deserve. We need more time tmm-mm-mmmh!" Korey reasserted his hold on Delias and dragged her back.

"We are seeking relevant information to our case and it may take longer than we hoped - - "

"I have no say in that." Tilly waved off his half-asked request. "You'll have to talk to the clerks at the Palace. You can ask them about the Heraldic Archives. I'm sure that something can be arranged. But I am too busy with my current assignments," she glared at Onie, "to help you, even if I were not already involved."

"Thank-you - - ungh - - Herald Tilly - - "

Delias was putting up a struggle, trying to use her weight to pull him down, but he planted his feet, counter balancing backward and tightened his grip until she stopped.

"We appreciate your devotion to your duty. Don't we Delias." He suddenly let go of her and she fell forward in her surprise, clouds of her breath puffing out in the chilly air, before she caught herself and reasserted her dignity.

"Yes, Herald Tilly. We appreciate your impartiality and we look forward to the Queen's justice." She looked Tilly up and down. "And I regret that you cannot join us for dinner. Perhaps later, after justice is done, you can join us then." She scooped up her cloak from the ground.

Tilly looked her up and down as well, her eyes narrowed. "Perhaps." She turned to Onie. "Now let's go. And you, too," the called out to Saston. She reached out again, but Onie was ready for her this time and she evaded the other woman's grasp.

"Aye. I's kin go wit'ye now'at Lady Delias an' Reed's Ma is back, but Saston donna have ta." She turned to the boy, his friend and Chellie. "Ye wants'ta stay t'night wit' Reed, 'is Ma an' Chellie? Ye gots no classes t'morra mornin', aye?"

Saston silently nodded, obviously not expecting this good fortune.

"He's too young," Tilly objected.

"He's got ten years on'im. Ol'enough I says, spec'ly since'ee'as Capar'ere wit'im."

"What?" Tilly's head turned to look down at the small boy. And then back toward Capar who slowly walked forward, rumbling a horsey 'hrrrrmm' toward the Herald. Behind Tilly, his Chosen assume a similar posture of determination, as well as he could. Onie was sure that her authority to order Trainees around might not extend to their Companions. Then Frena, who had been hiding in the shadows during the whole confrontation, stepped forward.

"I'd be honored to have him, Herald. And we'll send him back, first thing in the morning." Capar snorted his assurance as well.

Outnumbered, Tilly threw up her hands and agreed. And after a word of assurance to Chellie and an admonishment for them all to go back inside and out of the cold, One went to saddle Lillis for the trip back.

* * *

 **\- - - End Part 10**


	11. Chapter 11

**GROUNDLING 4: TRANSITIONS**

by ardavenport

 **\- - - Part 11**

* * *

Tilly sat impatiently in her office when Onie got there after telling Housekeeper where Saston was. It was a small room, just down the hall from the Dean's. It had a window, curtained off for the night. A desk, a couple wooden chairs and shelves. And more books and parchments than Onie would have thought possible to acquire for someone who could have been using the room for only a few days. The tiny fireplace was still warm with dying coals. Onie sat down and waited for Tilly to say what she wanted.

The Herald seemed to have calmed her temper during the silent ride back to the Collegium. She laid down a parchment of notes written with neat, precise lettering.

"I think I've found another case of a Ground Gift," she pointed to a large fat, leather-bound volume, open on her desk. Immediately forgetting their earlier argument, Onie sat forward in her chair, listening to Tilly's discovery.

It was in the Healer's records. Healing could be dangerous if a Healer used their Gift too deeply, or their patient died suddenly. So, the House of Healing kept detailed records of any deaths so the knowledge of what happened and how to avoid it could be passed on. They had eagerly given Tilly access to all their records and the assistance of three of their Trainees to find out what happened to Luba. They had been looking up all cases of Healing deaths and Tilly had been sorting through the accounts and eliminating the ones that were not likely 'Ground Gift deaths' until there was only one left.

Almost five-hundred years ago the house of a laborer named Sethrin had burned down. Everyone in the family escaped, but all were injured in various ways and it was very fortunate that a Healer, Sharos, had been staying with a cousin in their village at the time. But the parents, Sethrin and his wife Nonnie, refused to be Healed until all seven of their children were seen to first. It was not until the next day when Sharos could tend to Sethrin last. He had a fractured leg and burns, but the pain was not beyond the skills of the local wisewoman to alleviate. Sharos was healthy, middle-aged and as rested as was possible after Healing the various large and small injuries of seven children and Nonnie when he examined Sethrin. The witnesses said that the Healer laid his hand on Sethrin's leg, closed his eyes and almost immediately fell over backward, dead. No one could revive him.

Another Healer could not be sent to investigate until spring and even though the body had been stored in a cave with the rest of the village's dead for the season (the ground being too frozen for grave digging) the cause of death could not be found. Sharos had neither infirmities nor hidden diseases and had shown no symptoms of any according to the villagers, including his cousin and Sethrin who was questioned at length.

The rest of the village thought that Sethrin was some type of hedge wizard because he was extraordinary good at finding anything buried; his specialty was digging wells since he seemed uncommonly good at finding water. Most of the village homes had dirt floors and Sethrin always slept on straw on the ground, even in winter. His wife complained about that, though they still seemed able to have seven children. Sethrin was also notoriously afraid of heights, and no amount of money or reward could induce him to climb either a ladder or tree. Or ride a horse. Everyone in the village said that he seemed to heal unnaturally quickly from any injury, including his fractured leg. But the investigating Healer wrote that, regardless of Sethrin's peculiarities, she detected no Gift in him at all. But she did not pursue the matter; it was not her primary mission. The death of Healer Sharos was ruled due to some unknown health condition brought out by the strain of Healing so many in such a short period of time. Any records of whatever happened to Sethin, how long he lived and how many children he and his wife finally had were washed away when the village was flooded and never rebuilt three-hundred and forty years ago. If he was ever seen by another Healer no record of it had been found so far.

The story was very interesting, but Onie did not understand why it was so urgent that Tilly come after her over a man who lived five-hundred years ago. There wasn't anything about a Ground Gift at all, or how to deal with it.

Tilly looked incredulous at her reaction.

"Why does it matter? Sharos's death was exactly the same as Luba's. And Sethrin had the same quirks you do. So he probably had a Ground Gift.

"It means that whatever your . . . condition is, is incredibly rare. If it were any more common, there would be more Healers mysteriously dropping dead than this. And it probably does not run in families like other Gifts because Sharos Healed all of Sethrin's children before touching him."

"Aye, s'pose tha's true." She had wondered if any of her family might have some of her Ground Gift and should they be tested for it, however that might be done. But none of them slept on the ground either. This seemed to show that they probably didn't. "So, what's ye wan'ta ask me?"

Tilly looked down at her notes and rearranged them. Unlike Dean Teren's messy clutter, the books and parchments on Tilly's desk were lined up in their own particular places.

"Have you ever doused?"

Onie shrugged. "Tha wise woman back in Fair Fields always did'at when they needs a new well. But I could find tha water pipes ta tha Palace when they ask'd me."

"They did?" She riffled through a neat stack and pulled out a sheet of writing. "Oh, god's knees," she swore under her breath. "What else did they ask you to do?"

She told her about them hiding things and her finding only the ones on ground or buried. And about them being able to see her 'draw strength' from the ground but Tilly waved that off. Apparently anyone using Mage-Sight could see the life-flows of a non-Gifted person. Onie was just unusual because it also came up through her feet and it was only noticeable when Onie needed to 'draw strength' like when came down from some stairs. Tilly continued to write as Onie answered more questions, pausing only when the Herald reloaded her pen with more ink.

. . . Name any injuries she had in her life and how long they took to heal.

. . . Describe all the places she had ever slept in, even during any trips her family had made.

. . . List all physical activities she participated in before being Chosen and how good she was at them.

. . . Name all her best skills before being Chosen.

. . . Name any skill that she had tried and was especially bad at.

It went on for over two candlemarks with Onie answering and Tilly recording everything about her. When Onie's stomach growled she stopped and pointed out that neither one of them had eaten. Tilly sat back and her stomach growled. They both got up and stretched and Tilly went out to get a Palace page to bring them food from the kitchen. Sitting back at her desk, she gave Onie a long hard look.

"Is ye usin' ye Mage Sight on me?"

Tilly sighed. "Yes, for all the good it does. You are as ordinary as a farmer's wife."

A gentle knock told them that their food arrived and Tilly got up again. She put the tray that the page delivered on top of a bookshelf and they sat eating bread, cheese, cold meat and water for several minutes. Onie looked at the desk, and the neatly laid out documents on it. The only untidy thing was a wicker box on the left full of papers and books - - maybe they were the things that Tilly still had to read and sort and stack? One long scroll poked out with a note tucked on it that read, 'Herald Deena Tilmin', the name that she had heard Dean Teren use earlier.

"So, ye name's Deena Tilmin, aye?" she asked to break the tense silence. It was late evening and there were hardly any other noises from the rest of the Palace.

"My name's Tilly," she shot back with a fierce anger that surprised Onie. "'Tilmin' is my father, a scheming, vile manipulative reptile who cursed me with his name and Deena is his hag mother." She slammed her fist down on the desk. "My name's Tilly."

Onie sat back in her chair as if she could duck Tilly's obvious hatred for her family, but she did not think it should be aimed her way either.

"Well, if ye dosena like yer family name, why don' ye change it, then?" she demanded.

Tilly's face went blank and she blinked.

"I seen it done in'a Courts here in Haven." The process for changing Roston Jestren to Chellie Thatcher had taken less than a candlemark, though that was partly due to her being able to skip the line of petitioners since she was a Herald-Trainee as well as Chellie's guardian.

Blink. Blink.

"Unless ye really jus' likes complainin' 'bout it. Jus' don do'it ta me, 'cause I don' care ta hear it. But ye wants ta do more'in flappin' yer lips, I'm sure the Crown'll give ye tha Court fee ta pay fer it, ye bein' a Herald an' all. They dids it fer me, fer changin' Chellie's name," Onie finished.

Tilly was uncharacteristically speechless and they finished their food in silence. After Tilly put the tray outside in the hall, she sat down at her desk, ready to resume her questioning, filled pen at the ready over her parchment.

She put the pen down.

"Gunnar is always reminding me that there is book smart and then there is world smart. And that I should never underestimate world smart." Her eyes looked up at Onie. "He told me he spoke to you and that you were not lacking in world smart.

"And I'm always having to remind myself to listen to Gunnar," she lowered her eyes, "while I still can."

Tilly ended the session, told Onie she could go and would talk to her the next day about what they would do next. She agreed and left, but she had not gotten far when she heard Tilly closing the door to her office. Ducking in a side corridor, she saw Tilly quickly walking toward the door to the outside, not back to the Palace where her room was. Curious, Onie followed and spotted Tilly's white uniform, easily visible even in the dim outside lamplight, heading toward the House of Healing.

Going back to her own room, Onie found a letter for her in the box on the wall next to the door. Taking it, she went inside and lit the reading lamp. It was from Mec.

# # # - # # # - # # # - # # # - # # # - # # #

Onie,

I am sorry to write so soon to you, asking for things, but I have not gotten anything from Lady Delias. Is she well? Is she angry at me? Sami has become more insistent about me telling him about his father and I snapped at him today and I should not have. It is not fair to him, but I need to know that he will be safe if I tell him. Please, tell me what you know, no matter what it is, because it cannot be worse than knowing nothing at all.

All is well here. Ma and Pa send their love.

Mec

# # # - # # # - # # # - # # # - # # # - # # #

Onie angrily glared down at the page. Why had Delias not written? She had promised to half-a-moon ago. It was possible that Delias's letter had not reached Mec yet . . . but Onie was sure that she had not written at all. And now with the land dispute, she would have an excuse to delay again.

# # # - # # # - # # # - # # # - # # # - # # #

Mec,

Tell Sami about his Pa. And tell Ma and Pa. He's not a little no more and I've seen boys his age with much worse things in their lives than a father who's a Lord.

The Queen's Law will defend you as Sami's mother and even Lord Drogon has to answer to the Queen.

# # # - # # # - # # # - # # # - # # # - # # #

Onie paused, staring forward, realizing that she had learned that in one of Filamore's tedious lectures on guardianship and parentage. Only now was it clear how it applied to her own family. Since Mec and Kendron were not married and Mec could prove that she had raised Sami well, a Herald could rule her as sole guardian.

# # # - # # # - # # # - # # # - # # # - # # #

And next time the Heralds come through Fair Fields, you can tell them about Sami and make it official, that you are Sami's mother and his father has no rights to take him. I know Lord Drogon does not have any right to him since he is not a parent.

# # # - # # # - # # # - # # # - # # # - # # #

Onie paused again. Who were the Heralds who rode the circuit through Fair Fields? She had seen them when they came to town, but she never learned their names and they always stayed, ate and held hearings at the Wolf's Head, which was a tavern and an inn. She had not even thought, until that moment, to even find out who they were.

# # # - # # # - # # # - # # # - # # # - # # #

I don't' know why Lady Delias has not written back to you. Maybe she is afraid of what you will think of her. I told her the day I got your last letter that you were asking after her and she promised she would write. But since she has not, I will tell you everything I know.

# # # - # # # - # # # - # # # - # # # - # # #

Onie wrote down everything she knew about Lady Delias, what she looked like now, how she acted, Munthunt House, the servants, the land dispute with the Benryles. She even told her the rumors about how Delias was punished by Lord Drogon for trying to claim Sami for her own. After the first page, Onie started writing samller, but there were still three pages of her writing when she was done talking just about Delias, her house and everyone around her.

# # # - # # # - # # # - # # # - # # # - # # #

I don't know if you will think good or bad about Lady Delias now. I'm only telling you what I've seen and heard here. But Sami is safe with you, so you can tell people about him. Or maybe you just want to tell Ma and Pa and Sami about his father being a Lord's heir. People might take it the wrong way.

# # # - # # # - # # # - # # # - # # # - # # #

Onie paused again. She had no idea what Mec already knew about Kendron? Did she know that he was not high borne? That he was appointed Lord Drogon's heir through his marriage to Delias? It could be another page or two to write about what she had heard from Chellie and Korey, and it could easily be things that Mec already knew better since she had known Kendron personally. Shared a bed with him. And Delias.

Deciding to just end the letter there, Onie added love to their parents. She waved the ink dry, folded the pages and sealed them with wax. She would send it the next day, the first chance she got.

* * *

 **\- - - End Part 11**


	12. Chapter 12

**GROUNDLING 4: TRANSITIONS**

by ardavenport

 **\- - - Part 12**

* * *

Onie clutched her bucket, her breath puffing out in clouds as she rounded the corner of the salle. Tilly was still there, chatting with Captain Kerowyn, both of them looking her way like two people evaluating a horse they were thinking of buying.

At that moment, her stomach rebelled and she fell to the ground, short of her goal, her breakfast coming back up. Attempting a third lap around the salle had been too much. After heaving up what she could, she flopped down on the ground gasping; the cold felt good, a refreshing breeze going through her abused overheated body. After only a moment's rest she pushed herself up to go empty the bucket. Kerowyn would not delay the class for her.

When she got back and slunk into the back row, class had already started, the students standing in lines listening to Kerowyn's talk about the day's lesson.

Wrestling.

Onie had seen boys wrestle back home, but not with any of the moves and strategy that Kerowyn talked about. Sometimes Kerowyn would demonstrate, partnering with Tilly who was every bit as athletic as she looked.

They paired off and did drills first - boys with boys, girls with girls, practicing grabs and forcing their opponents to the floor mats.

Unsurprisingly, Onie's partner was Tilly. They went slow at first, lunging and grabbing, but Onie was hitting the mats more often than Tilly, who was all arms and legs and fast as a snake striking. Tilly yelled at her to pay attention. Kerowyn yelled at her to do better (but she was doing that to nearly everyone else in the class).

It was frustrating. Lunge, squirm, fall. Lunge, wiggle, squirm, fall. Tilly was deliberately lifting Onie up and as soon as her feet left the ground she felt like she didn't know which end was up and then Tilly would flip her to the mat and pin her there. Then she remembered something that Captain Kerowyn said in another lesson about using weight. So, the next time Tilly grabbed her she dropped and then she felt Tilly's weight on her. It felt right. Onie rolled and forced Tilly's body down and this time she ended up on top.

Kerowyn added more commands, demonstrating more moves on different members of the class, even how to flip an opponent on top, but Onie concentrated on finding that one feeling, getting under Tilly and feeling her weight on her body. When she could do that, she felt like she was in control of both of their bodies and could always roll Tilly onto the ground, not natter what her arms and legs did.

After another fall, Tilly lay still on the mat for longer than she had been before.

Onie pulled herself up. "Is ye usin' ye Mage sight on me?"

"Yes," Tilly hissed and she pounded the mat to be let up. When they were standing face to face, she waved to Kerowyn who came over to them. Tilly stepped back.

"Show her what you've learned."

Kerowyn assumed a crouch and Onie was forced to do the same. Captain Kerowyn, her graying blond hair tied in tight braids pinned to her head, was a real mercenary with years of battle experience. She gave no mercy in class and expected none.

Onie hoped that Kerowyn would make the first move so she might know what to do, but the Weaspons Master did not oblige. Other members of the class drifted in their direction to see what would happen.

Onie dove forward and low, but Kerowyn skipped to the side and then her arms were around Onie's chest, trying to lift her off the ground. Letting her knees go slack, Onie's weight dropped, but it had no effect on Kerowyn whose feet were firmly planted on either side on her.

Her hand grasped Onie's braid, pulling upward, but Onie kept her feet and butt on the ground and looking up, she saw the middle of Keroyn's body over her and knew that was where that feeling was. She grabbed the woman's leathers and pulled hard. Kerowyn rolled and Onie pushed herself after her, but Keroyn kept rolling and twisting her body. They went over twice before Onie felt that center-point in the Weapons Master's body and she flipped it over and under her own weight.

She tried to throw Onie off, but she dug in, splayed over her back, holding her down, even driving her chin into her shoulder blade.

Kerowyn pounded on the mat.

Surrender.

The gathered class exchanged murmurs of wonder at Onie's unexpected victory, but Kerowyn paid no attention to it. She looked toward Tilly.

"You're right. She's sloppy, but there's definitely a natural talent there." Turning back to Onie, she put her hands on her hips. "Now, if you could just do something about her running."

Thankfully, class was soon over and they headed back to the Collegium to clean up. But Tilly followed her down to where she washed in her curtained off tub in the laundry area.

"The artificers set all this up for you?" Tilly asked as she looked at the overhead pipes while Onie turned on the water.

"Aye. Been up in tha' dormitory washroom once and I was almost sick fer stayin' too long init."

"Yes, well I already saw that today. We don't need any more." Then she asked for parchment and pens and got them after Onie told her where they were in her room. And as Onie washed the sweat off, Tilly wrote down everything she said about what she had done and felt during her wrestling lesson.

Then when Onie was finished, Tilly quickly stripped down and took her own turn at a quick wash, standing in the tub.

Onie looked doubtfully down at Tilly's notes. Her handwriting was neat, small and precise but there were odd symbols sprinkled among the recognizable words. Tilly explained that they were codes that scribes used so they could write as fast as people talked.

"Ye think this'll be useful. About me learnin' in weapons class?"

"I don't know," Tilly answered as she dried herself. "If you don't know what you're looking for, you have to look at everything."

"Well, maybe ye kin look at me cooking. Might be somethin' there ta see."

Tilly wrinkled her nose. "I don't - - - " she stopped herself. "I make these notes first. I can only look at so many things at one time."

They both dressed. Their clothes were sweaty, but the wash was still a big improvement and they would both be at equitation class after the midday meal.

After a class of carefully monitored jumps that Lillis executed under Tilly's watchful eye, there was another note-taking session behind the curtain in the laundry room. At one point, Housekeeper Gaytha peered in on them. Onie heard her coming, but she apparently surprised Tilly who looked embarrassed and hastily explained about her task to explain Onie's Ground Gift. Gaytha seemed amused by Tilly's discomfort and after vaguely wishing them luck, she left them to finish on their own. Tilly soon left to go interview Lillis about her experience during riding class, since she was the one responsible for keeping grounded when they practiced low jumps with Onie in the saddle.

After they were gone, Onie realized that Gaytha, who had been Housekeeper for the Collegium for longer than Onie had been alive, would have known Tilly when she was first Chosen and even seen her grow up. Onie found Gaytha writing in her record books in her neat, whitewashed office.

"Um, I was wondr'in' just then, uh, tha' ye knows Tilly a bit mor'in me, an' maybe ye could tell me more 'bout'er. So's we could get along better."

Gaytha's brows furrowed and she carefully put aside her pen. "How do you mean?"

"Well . . . . she's na very nice. And if I's spos'ta be assigned ta her, so she kin work out me Ground Gift, it seems like we should get along better."

"And . . . how did you want get along with Herald Tilly?"

"Well . . . she could stop orderin' me around like I'm'er servant." Onie told her about Tilly's sudden and unpleasant appearance at Munthunt Hall the day before.

"An' I know she's a Herald an'all, but she's na got na call ta tell me I has ta leave Chellie when she's feelin' bad jus' because she finds somethin'in'er books. An' she's got na call ta order Saston ta go when he's visitin'is friend, neither."

Gaytha's shoulders dropped and she relaxed. "Herald Tilly has always been forceful. And smart. And determined when she gets her teeth into something. It makes her a good leader and a good Herald. But she has been known to . . . over-step herself in the past. As a Herald, she does have the authority to give your orders, but only in the field or if she is your teacher. But you are both adults, you should be able to work it out yourselves."

"Aye," Onie nodded, but then she wondered about Gaytha's change in attitude and her initial reaction to her questions.

"What's ye be thinkin' when I first asks 'bout me an Tilly getting' along better?"

"Oh, um, well, I suppose it's not a secret. You do know that Herald Tilly . . . . does not like men."

Onie's eyes widened. "Uh, it ne'er come up. An," she sat down in the chair by the desk. "Even if I was ta like womin, don' think Tilly's someun I'd like ta be wit'. And I'm sure she don' look at me tha' way at all."

Gaytha agreed.

"So, ye's thinkin' we was up ta thin's tha' teenagers do tha' they shouldna ba'hind tha curtin?"

"Well, . . . " Gaytha hesitated " . . . I doubted that either of you would have been interested, but I am responsible with the decorum here. At least to ensure that Trainees who are old enough keep it behind locked doors."

Onie grinned. "Aye, must be tough work, then."

"It can be," she agreed and picked up her pen. "Now, unless you have something else to ask me, I have quite a lot of more of it to do."

Onie excused herself, leaving her to her ledgers. Deciding to go see Saston, she headed for the Stables. She was right on her first guess. He was there with Capar, two grooms, two Palace saddle-makers and Barro. The barn was scented with hay the air clean as fresh snow.

"Onie! Come see." Saston led her to stand at Capar's side. Then he went to his enormous Companion (Saston could almost walk under Capar without having to bend down) and pulled a loop on the side of the work saddle and a little rope-and-slat ladder fell down. Saston scurried up it and mounted. The new saddle was fitted for his small body, but with very short stirrups that still allowed his feet and legs to touch Capar behind the tops of his shoulders. He happily demonstrated straps that he could use to tie himself down with if he were injured in the field; he was so small, he could lay completely flat on his back.

"Capar doesn't have to lower himself now when I get on."

"We're still working out the fit for this big guy," one of the saddle makers gestured toward Capar, "but since the Healers don't think little Saston's going to get much bigger, we thought we'd better make something better than what we were improvising with."

Onie saw Saston grimace behind the man's back and she knew that he would have to work hard to get away from being called 'little Saston'. Lillis arrived just then and Onie turned to the saddle-maker.

"Is it good enough ta take out fer a ride?"

The saddle-maker shrugged and looked to Capar who repositioned his feet a few times and nodded. Saston looked down at her curiously from her new perch. Onie grinned.

"I's still gots ta visit Chellie taday. Ye can come, if ye likes."

"Yes, please."

Onie pointed a semi-serious, stern finger at him. "It's only a short trip. We canna stay fer long." Saston agreed and after Onie saddled Lillis, they were on their way. Saston told her about his overnight stay. Reed showed him how to play dice. Onie was not sure that was a good thing, but Saston solemnly assured her that he knew that Heralds did not gamble without her even asking. They also explored the attic at Munthunt house. There were coats of arms and a whole set of silver with Lord Drogon's shield engraved on the pieces and old dull weapons, rolled up tapestries that had not been damaged by the old roof leaks. Delias did not want them on display. Saston showed Reed some moves he had learned in fighting class with short staffs and they practiced until Frena came up and shooed them back downstairs to go to bed.

Onie listened as they trotted down to Munthunt House. It sounded like a grand adventure for two boys who so recently had miserable lives. The adventure wound to an end when they reached the gate of Munthunt House. Onie let Saston ring the bell. A moment later Frena and Chellie came running out, but they did not open the gate. Chellie hastily signaled to Onie and she dismounted so she could speak with her through the iron bars.

"We can't let you in."

"Aye?"

Korey Mineeladath had gone to the Palace to ask about a delay for their audience and if they could have access to the Heraldic Archives. He found out the Benryle's men had already come that morning to complain that at least one of the Heralds who had ruled against him in the land dispute was biased against him because she had been seen consorting with Lady Delias.

Tomet Benryle had someone watching Munthund House.

Onie looked behind her at the lanes of houses, dormant, leafless trees, bushes and evergreens. There were a lot of windows that people could be looking through. Onie felt angry for Chellie and Delias's sake; it was a sneaky thing to do, spying.

Worse yet, only Korey would be allowed into the Heraldic Archives and between his family and duty as a City Guard, he did not have time to do the research, which could take a couple of days at least. Lady Delias would absolutely not be allowed into the Archives.

"Could you look?" Chellie passed a folded sheet with a list of what Delias needed. It was Onie's free day, but her full schedule of classes would start up again tomorrow and she did not even know where exactly the Heraldic Archive was. If the Archive was on a second floor somewhere, she would be even more limited. Without voicing her misgivings, she promised to do what she could. And to send Saston's cousin, Barro, with word of what they found. Chellie reached her small arms through the bars as much as she could for a hug and then the two ran back to the House.

Onie turned to Lillis, who muzzled her shoulder.

"I's gots ta try."

They hurried back to the Palace. Onie looked at Delias's list and it was an impossible task; she basically wanted the records for the circuits that covered any part of Benryle's lands searched for two-hundred years back for any land disputes to prove that he regularly encroached on all his neighbors. Onie promise felt very empty by the time they returned to Companions' Stable where Saston said that Capar now had a very good sense of where his new saddle needed to be adjusted. Saston stayed to tell the saddle-makers what needed to be done.

Onie left them there at the stable still riding Lillis. Because it turned out, Lillis knew exactly where the Heraldic Archives were and she was happy to take her. It was a stone building, two stories high with narrow windows and surrounded by tall hedges and small mounds of snow shoveled from the paths, but it was still possible that what Onie needed was on the first floor. Lillis took her right up to the front door.

"Ye don'na needs ta stay," Onie said as she dismounted.

Lillis stamped her foot. Onie hugged her neck. "Thank-ee. But I's comin' out ta tell ye, if I's goin'ta be here long."

It was both dark and light inside. Yellow light from lanterns hung over a front desk with the rows and rows of full shelves lurking in the shadows behind it. Cold snow light coming in tall shafts from the windows and dark places between them. Book rooms had a smell unlike anything Onie had experienced back home. She did not even think of books and ink and parchment having any particular smell, but when enough of them were gathered together, they did. Combined with wood and candles and dust, it was not unpleasant.

The man at the desk had long greasy gray hair that hung in ropes around his face and Onie told him that she needed to look for some things in the Archives. Not knowing what else to say or where she needed to start, she took out Delias's list and started reading from it. But he stopped her halfway.

"I'm sorry Trainee, but those records are unavailable. They've been taken." The Archivist seemed a bit fearful about what he had just said.

"Aye? Taken?"

"Yes, it is very unusual. We never allow our record books to leave this building. Never. But there was a request from Herald Thintry and he is too ill to come himself."

"Aye? Thintry's got'em?"

"Yes, Trainee, so I hope you understand." But Onie was already heading out the door. "Thank-ee! Thank-ee!" she called out.

"Thintree's got the books. He must already be lookin' up what Benryle's been up ta." Lillis's ears perked up and she quick-trotted Onie back the way they had come to the House of Healing. Galloping in the gardens was seriously frowned on except for the direst emergency.

She climbed down from the saddle and ran inside. The desk was empty in the entryway, so Onie took that as a good sign and she went right in. Past the rows of beds and patients along the wall and isolated by the screens, Gunnar was propped up on his pillows, a Healer-Trainee sat on a stool at the end of the bed and a young man in gray clerk's robes held up an open volume while a second clerk wrote on a parchment on a small table stacked high with more volumes.

"Aaah, Onie Thatcher. I'm surprised they let you in to see me."

"Didna ask permission."

The Healer Trainee started to rise from her seat, but Thintry waved her down.

"This unexpected visit is a boon to my spirits," Thintry held his hands out to all his attendants. "Could we please have a moment of privacy? Just a moment?"

The Healer-Trainee looked like she wanted to object, but she sighed instead. The clerks looked even more reluctant to leave the books, but they bowed their heads and went to stand a short distance away, but still in line-of-sight of them.

Looking more unwell, more gray, Thintry nevertheless seemed quite cheerful. "The Archivists hold these records closer than a miser hoards gold. But they could not refuse me, so they allowed them to be sent here." Thintry smiled. "It is amazing what powers a dying man has."

"Seems like tha price ye pay fer it is pretty high."

Thintry sighed, obviously unwilling to let go of his good mood just because he was dying. "Yes, high indeed. But my condition has focused my mind on what is important to me. And I will spend my last energies on being a Herald." His hand caressed a heavy book next to him. "For this one last task." His eyes returned to Onie.

"Tilly told me about last night and that Delias wanted to bolster her case against Benryle. It would be very relevant information for the hearing in a few days, so I thought I would take the task on myself.

Onie told him about Benryle's watch on Delias's house and about his complaint about Tilly being biased. "I tell'em tha' I's will help if I could, but when I goes ta tha Archives, I finds tha ye has'em."

He frowned deeply. "Tilly will not react well to Benryle questioning her integrity. But the Queen will trust a Herald's word over an aggrieved Lord from the North. Benryle's complaint will add extra vigor to my research. Or at least as much as I can muster."

"But if ye's lookin' up Lord Benryle's bad deeds, won'it look like ye's aganst'im? When ye shows it ta tha Queen?"

"I'm making a list of all the illegal settlements that Lord Drogon has burned down as well. It's not the first time he's done this; his lands are on our circuit. But he usually lets them remove all their possessions first. He must have been more angry than usual this time; he only let them remove all their animals and winter provisions - - he's not a complete tyrant - - before torching the buildings and tearing up the fences.

"We would have stopped him if we'd known what he was going to do. But I'd gotten sick by then. And then Tilly found that wise woman did not know her business at all; she threw her into a snow bank before we left - - and she deserved it." He rubbed his stomach. "Food poisoning, " he grumbled before signing for Onie to draw closer.

"You have done an excellent job of keeping Tilly busy. I am in your debt."

"Havn't done nothin' special, but what I's be doin' anyways."

"Well, it is still appreciated. Tilly is going to Court tomorrow to change her name."

"Don' know why she hadna done it afore."

"I and others have told her in the past that she should. But you seem to be the first person that she listened to."

That made no sense at all to Onie. Unless maybe Tilly had gotten tired of her own complaining.

"I's gots ta thank-ye fer doin' this," she gestured to the books. "I'd never ha'been able ta do it fer Chellie. Wouldna know tha firs' place ta look."

"It's a simple task for me. I've been writing the field reports that these volumes are made from for over twenty years. But don't tell them what I'm doing. I don't want her to be over-confident in the hearing.

"I tol' Chellie I'd send would a'what was bein' done, no matta'what."

"Then just tell them the records are being searched, for Benryle's past and for Drogon's." He shrugged. "That is no less than the truth."

"Aye. It is."

"Well, I see that my minders are getting nervous." Thintry settled back on his pillows, his gaze going past Onie. "You should go. I need to get back to my research, while I still can. And Thank you, again."

Getting up, she nodded back to him. "If 'ere's anythin' I's can do - - -"

"You have already done more than I could have hoped for, Onie Thatcher."

* * *

 **\- - - End Part 12**


	13. Chapter 13

**GROUNDLING 4: TRANSITIONS**

by ardavenport

 **\- - - Part 13**

* * *

Onie got her first hint of what Tilly had planned for her a couple days later when she caught a glimpse of her peeking around a corner into the kitchen while Onie finished up her chores before her first class. Surveying her finished work, she wiped her hands on a clean dish rag and went to her. The other Trainees had already finished the dishwashing and gone upstairs.

"Ye needs me? I's jus' finish'd'ere, but I's gots ta go up fer class afore tha nex' bell."

"You don't have classes. Except for weapons training and riding."

"Aaaaye? Aren't I'spos'd'ta be learnin' ta be'a Herald?"

"Onie, Luba and any other Healer cannot risk touching you with their Gift because they might die instantly. Discovering why that could happen and how to prevent it is more important than any class."

"Aye," she replied thoughtfully, " but why'is - - - "

"Trainee Thatcher, where are those herb sachets - - - "

Onie whirled away from Tilly to face Cook.

"They's right there behind ye," she pointed past Cook's bulk. "Seven, jus' like ye asks. An tha chopped veg'tables is in'a bowls right next ta'em." She added a snarl for good measure. "We's gots Herald business here. If ye want'd more'n'at, ye shoulda ask'd sooner."

Tamira was neither surprised nor intimidated by her response, but she did look to the sideboard and then 'Hrmph'ed as if she had done the work herself and went back into the kitchen to start making her soup stock.

"Ugh." Onie turned back to Tilly . . .

. . . who stared back at her in open shock. The she grabbed Onie's arm and hustled them down the hall away from the kitchen, only stopping at the base of the stairs.

"I can't believe that woman backed down." Tilly told her. "She used to terrify me when I was a Trainee. I know everyone says she's a small dog with a big bark, but I always expect to hear she's murdered someone."

"Aye, I'll admit I don' turn me back on'er if she's gotta knife in'er hand. But I'm sure she knows'at she'd be outta work if she lays a'hand on anyone. And she wants'ta cook, an' be'er own queen in'er own kitchen more'n she wants'ta hurt people." Onie glance back toward Tamira's domain. "An' when she's mad, I wonder if she wants'ta hurt people more.

"Least when you's mad, it's cause somethin's not bein' done when it should," she told Tilly. "She gets mad, she wants ta hurt people fer it. 'Cause she'd enjoy doin' it." She shook her head. "No good'll come'a tha'."

"I've underestimated you again, Thatcher." Tilly cast a wary glance back toward the kitchen as they went upstairs. They passed classrooms with closed doors with the voice of teachers lecturing behind them. In the entryway to the Collegium, a group of people waited. Tilly introduced them.

There was Greenvale, a Hawkbrother Mage in blue and gray, fur-trimmed robes. He looked older, maybe mid-thirties, but not so old that would justify his shoulder-length white hair. He also had his bond-bird with him, an enormous hawk. Or an eagle? Or a falcon? It was brown, with a subtle pattern of light and dark on the tips of its folded wings. And like most birds of prey, it was big and mean looking, and Hawkbrother birds were bigger than average. Onie knew little about raptors except they were good when they killed mice wanting to get into your food stores. Her short eyesight had prevented her from telling the difference between one really big bird in the sky from the next. And since coming to the Collegium when she got her spectacles, the subject had never come up. Until now.

The bird was introduced as 'Yyre'.

Then there was a young Herald-Mage named Breein Gripp, about Onie's height, with a round face that made Onie wonder if he was old enough to shave yet, but he apparently was and had been studying Mage-craft in K'Valdemar with Greenvale, who was apparently Sunwing's replacement in Haven. Since Onie had never been really sure what Sunwing's position was other than being a Mage, she supposed that he had inherited the same duties, which now included testing her Ground Gift.

There was Herald-Trainee Edos Nyleton, who sometimes had kitchen duty with Onite. "Nyle" and Onie exchanged shrugs. There was also a Healer-Trainee, Karrin, in pale green robes and she wore the same kind of brown leather shoulder bag that Nyle had. And then there was Healer Luba. She gave Onie a wan smile. No hug.

After the introductions, Tilly led them outside.

"How's ye gets caught up in this?'" Onie asked, falling in beside Nyle. The young man shrugged.

"I don't know. I'm supposed to be starting Mage-work with Greenvale and Breein, but Dean Teren assigned them to work with Herald Tilly. So, here I am. I'm supposed to take notes." He patted the bag slung over his shoulder.

When they got outside, Tilly put Onie through many of the same exercises that the Mages had last summer when they first tested her Ground Gift. Except that both Karrin and Nyle took notes on what Onie did and what they (the ones with Mage Sight) Saw and the others added their marks to what they witnessed. Tilly had set everything up, including a couple stools and small table that Karrin and Nyle could write on and carry with them from place to place. Onie found coins hidden among the dormant gardens, climbed a ladder leaning on the side of the building and stayed up there until she felt unwell (Tilly yelled at her when she put her hand on the stone wall for support). She found the pipes under the ground (though since she already knew where they were, she wasn't sure this was much of a test). Both Breein and Greenvale hurled spells at her. They looked just like all the other Mages waving their arms around (and Breein squealed a little bit), though they seemed impressed by her lack of response.

When the bell rang for Onie's usual weapon's class, they went to the fighting salle. Kerowyn had started the class out running around the building, but standing next to her was the Collegium's semi-retired Karsite Weapons Master, Alberich, in well-worn leathers; he was older and Onie wondered if he knew how to smile and he was even more merciless than Captain Kerowyn.

With a wave, Tilly told Onie to start running.

"Havena got me bucket."

"Unngh," Alberich grunted. "Got to have your bucket, eh? I see you run. You run too slow. Faster, you won't need your bucket." He drew his sword from the scabbard buckled around his middle, the blade sliding out with the sinister ring of sharpened steel.

Shocked, Onie stepped back. But Tilly backed up away from them. And she warned Luba and the others back as well.

Alberich tested the edge of his sword with his thumb. "I will only make shallow cuts. Not much blood. Healers say that you heal quickly." And before she could even move, he lunged forward and Onie heard the fabric of her split skirt tear. Stumbling, her butt hit the frozen path and she scuttled backward from the advancing Karsite. He snarled.

"Run."

With only a fleeting glance toward Tilly and the others where there was no help coming, Onie clumsily scrambled to her feet. Her skirt took another slash as she launched herself into the best run she could manage.

Wasn't Alberich old and slow? Onie felt slower. She arched her back when she felt a steel tip touch the middle of her back. Eyes fixed on the horizon, she pushed herself harder, running around the back side of the salle. The tip of his sword poked her again.

"Faster."

Coming around the corner, Onie saw Tilly and the others had moved to see her running toward them.

Alberich let out a terrifying war cry that made the Healers and Heralds (except for Tilly) jump. Onie ran faster when that sword tip touched her back again. Coming around the next corner, she ran straight toward Kerowyn, but she saw no mercy there. Would he chase her around the building again?

The ringing chimes of hooves approached rapidly from behind her and Tilly shouted.

Onie threw herself to the ground and covered her head. Alberich shouted and then there were more galloping sounds. Lillis screamed. Another Companion screamed back at her. Onie lifted her head.

Lillis and a stallion circled each other, neighing and whinnying furiously, their bodies close in a high-stepping dance. They both had their heads and tails up. Shocked, Onie climbed to her feet.

"Ye's a Herald?!"

It was hard to believe, but the truth was right in front of her. The stallion was Alberich's Companion. Lillis had come running to defend her and Alberich's Companion had followed to take his side. He did not bother to answer. With a shout of something that might have been Karsite or a curse word that Onie had never heard of, Alberich dove forward and broke up the noisy posturing between the two. Onie looked to Kerowyn.

"Is ye's a Herald, too?"

She just rolled her eyes, as if Onie was the last person in the world to figure out the obvious. But it wasn't obvious and Onie was now angry that she would be expected to know. Nobody had ever mentioned it; she had never seen either of them riding in Companion's field and she had never seen either Weapons Master wear whites. And she was also mad about being chased. She went right up to Kerowyn.

"That were a mean thing ta do. Him chasin' me like tha'." Onie grabbed the loose lengths of her partially shredded skirt.

"That isn't half as mean as a mercenary, twice your size, will be when he's really trying to _kill you_ on a battlefield." Kerowyn poked her in the chest. "And you better run like that in your next class, Thatcher, or I'll chase you myself." She looked toward Tilly.

"Good work, Tilly," she shouted out and without waiting for an answer, she shouted the class into the salle. After exchanging some smirking Mind Speech with his Companion, Alberich followed them.

Lillis snorted what might have been an insult at the stallion, but he was unaffected. He turned a circle, head and tail high, and trotted back toward Companion's Field.

"Don' mind'em. Guess they's gots they reasons." She stroked Lillis's neck; her winter coat was thick, but still silky. Then Tilly advanced on them, going nose to nose with Lillis.

"How did you know she was being chased?" she demanded and then went silent for the Mind Spoken answer.

"You HEARD her?" she demanded. "You were over in Companion's Field. How could you possibly hear her from over there? Even Companions don't hear that well."

Lillis pawed the ground.

"You heard her running?" Her tone softened in wonder. Then she whirled and pointed. "Write that down!" Karrin and Nyle hastily set up their stools and table and obeyed.

Apparently, during her panicked dash away from a murderous Karsite warrior, Onie had been seen drawing strength from the ground, through her feet, in the same way as when she climbed down from standing on a ladder or stairs to recover from being so high up.

And Luba saw the same thing through her Healer's Gift. She had also seen something similar after Onie's fall in Companion's Field, just before she nearly died. Karrin and Nyle scribbled furiously to capture it all and then Tilly criticized them for their poor lettering. They had to repeat it all, more slowly, so Nyle and Karrin could keep up. Then they started debating about what it all meant. Greenvale did not think they were seeing enough energy to be important, but Luba thought there was more than he thought. And maybe it was Onie's drawing strength from the ground that Lillis had heard. Tilly did not think the amount of energy mattered, just whether or not it could be controlled. Breein started to say some things, but someone else would always talk over him and take the discussion in another direction.

Onie looked at Lillis. Lillis looked back.

They both slowly walked away, but the rest of the group did not seem to notice.

"I's jus' worried 'bout me nex' weapons class. I don' knows what I done. An I don' wan'em chasin' me neither."

Lillis grunted.

"Well, if ye seen it, kin ye tell me how I's done it? An was'at what ye heard when ye come runnin'?"

Lillis nodded her big head and then lowered it, her eyes guilty. Onie stroked her forelock and touched her forehead to the silky hair. "It aren't ye fault if ye don' know how." she lifted her head. "But if I done it afore, I guess I kin do'it agin. 'Cause I gots ta if I don' wan'ta get chased." She lifted a fold of her ruined skirt. "Maybe if I's pretends they's chasin' me, they won' really have ta."

Straightening her shoulders, she huffed out a cloud of breath in the cold air. "Watch me. See if ye sees it again." She thought about Kerowyn, her head down, her eyes narrowed, coming after her.

She ran, but halfway down the straight length of the garden path she was sure she wasn't doing it right. Her stomach was sure she wasn't doing it right either. She stopped, bending over, hands on her knees, and panted. When she stood up again, Lillis gave her head a little shake.

Looking down at the path, Onie felt her back. There was a little hole in her over-vest where Alberich had poked her and she grimaced at the time she would have to take sewing it up.

She ran again, toward Lillis this time. She arched her back, trying to pull away from the memory of that cold steel point jabbing her in the middle of her back.

Lillis's ears perked up.

She did not feel sick at all when she came to a stop next to Lillis, her arms flailing. Lillis muzzled her cheek and shoulder in approval. She still felt clumsy and slow . . . but not sick at all.

"I thinks I knows," she turned to Lillis's sapphire eyes, "I's gots ta _need_ ta run. I's gots ta need it like me life is in'it." Still breathing hard through her nose, she pressed her lips together, looked down the path again and took off.

Again, she arched her back, running away from the imaginary sword behind her; she burned the feel of that tiny, hard jab into her mind as it drove her forward. When she reached the end of the path, Lillis whinnied and Onie ran again toward her.

"Thatcher! God's whiskers Thatcher, what are you doing?!"

Onie ran past Lillis and toward Tilly who loped past the hedges, but stopped when she saw Onie coming at her. She stumbled to a stop before actually colliding with the Herald who gaped back at her.

"Wha'?" she demanded breathlessly, "Wha's ye be needin' from'me, now."

"How did you do that?"

"Don' know. But I's gots ta need ta run, ta mak'it work." Onie did not want to say that she needed to be chased, because she did not as long as she could remember that sword point in her back. "An' if I don' wants Cap'in Kerowyn ta chase me trying ta draw blood ta make me go faster, then I guess I needs ta run." Lillis trotted up to them with a proud snort.

The bell sounded from the Palace.

"I's gots ta go ta kitchen duty." Tilly opened her mouth to object, "'Less ye wants Cook ta be mad at me. She hates it when anyone's late." Tilly closed her mouth and her gaze went back the way she'd come. "No. Yes. I mean go. I have to do something. Meet me back at my office when you're done."

Tilly left her standing there with Lillis. Onie remembered Thintry telling her that Tilly was going to Court to change her name.

"Ye wants ta run wit' me?" she invited. Lillis nodded eagerly and they went together, Companion at a slow, easy trot with Chosen bending her body forward as if a threatening sword propelled her forward.

Onie made it barely halfway to the Collegium. Walking, hand on Lillis's neck, the other on a stitch in her side, but her stomach quiet, she caught her breath.

"Oooh, . . . this runnin's a lot o'hard work. Don' know hows ye makes it look so easy." Lillis gave her a blue-eyes wink. She would get the hang of it.

* * *

 **\- - - End Part 13**


	14. Chapter 14

**GROUNDLING 4: TRANSITIONS**

by ardavenport

 **\- - - Part 14**

* * *

"Where's Tilly?" Onie asked, when she met the others of their little group at the Collegium entryway on the third day of Tilly's Ground Gift tests.

"She's testifying before the Queen about that land dispute up north," Breein Gripp answered.

"Aye? Oh, I forgot she'ad ta do tha'. Didna know it was taday." The past two days had been so full of tests for her Ground Gift that she had little time for anything else aside from her kitchen duties, eating and washing. Other Mages and Healers came and went during the tests and added their observations to the notes since Tilly demanded that they write them down and sign them, even Princess Elspeth and Darkwind when they stopped by for a brief appearance. Tilly had even had her sleep on a hearth on the first floor of the Collegium to see how well she slept there - not as well as she did in her room, but part of the discomfort was Tilly watching her most of the night. Tilly attributed the difference to her room hearth being physically on the foundation of the building.

The consensus among Healers and Mages was that Onie could draw strength from the ground. She had no control over it, but 'the right frame of mind' could improve how well it worked. They had spent the previous afternoon and evening testing Onie riding Lillis to see if any of these abilities could be picked up by her Companion, but there was no agreement on that yet. But when they emerged from the Collegium, Lillis was nowhere in sight.

"No riding this morning. While Tilly's busy, we have a different test for you," Greenvale announced, taking charge, his bond bird (a hawk) sat on his heavily padded shoulder where it usually was and glowered at them. He led them down the garden path towards the Palace. Onie fell into step next to Luba. Or perhaps Luba had deliberately chosen to walk with her, the first time they had been within arm's length of each other since her fall in Companion's Field. Her assistant, Healer-Trainee Karrin, walked behind them carrying the little table.

"You've be doing marvelously well," Luba said with a touch of her usual cheerfulness.

"Aye, thank-ee. But I's gots ta credit Tilly fer most'a it. I's never woulda thought'a any a this meself." Tilly still treated her like her 'project' but Onie was sure that at least the Herald-Mage did not think she was stupid anymore.

"That woman has been very insightful. She has a strong Earth-sense, you know. Possibly that's why she can see so much in you when the others couldn't."

"Aye," Onie agreed. "I's sorry 'bout what happened in'a Field. I didna mean it at all. Ye bein' hurt like'at."

"Oh, there was no damage really," Luba assured her. "After I got cleaned up, I was perfectly fine."

"Been thinking ye been stayin' away, after things went so badly back then in'a Field."

Luba looked away briefly. "Well, at first it was a precaution, since we didn't know how what happened, happened. But I have to admit that I'm not as sure about probing your Gift as I once was.

"When I tried to Heal you . . . when I touched you with my Gift . . . it was absolutely terrifying." She shook her head sadly. "And it happened in an instant. We have discussed it at length, Onie. Suddenly I was out of my body, helpless, lost. And all I could feel was . . . a vast, claustrophobic void. Everything was dark, closed in, but endless. I couldn't even scream.

"And I wanted to." Luba admitted.

"Well, I's real sorry it happened." Onie would have liked to have hugged the Healer then, but touching her was the last thing she could do.

"Has Tilly found out wha'it'is tha' happened, then?"

Luba shook her head. "No. Tilly is sure it has something to do with how a Healer bonds with her patient, but she does not know what could cause anything like it. In fact, she does not know why it didn't happen to Lillis when she Chose you. She said she was going to have to study what the differences are between the two kinds of bonds." The smile returned to Luba's eyes and round face. "But now we're sure your Ground Gift let you Heal yourself, we won't need to touch, so there's time to work it out."

Onie agreed, happy that she and Luba were at least still friends, even if they didn't know what was so deadly about her Ground Gift when it was touched by Healing.

They reached the Palace and Greenvale stopped at the door and transferred his hawk's perch from shoulder to arm and then it flew up in the air. He'd done the same thing for the past few days and Onie wondered what the bird did. She had seen it perched high on the Palace roof watching them during Tilly's tests - - watching her - - but she had no idea what it was seeing. Weren't Hawkbrother bond birds supposed to be able to Mind Speak?

Greenvale took them down to a lower level, his brown and green robe fluttering behind him like a bird ruffling its feathers. He took them to a small room. Mirren and Nyle had to leave their table and stools in the hall, but there were benches inside, on opposite walls with lit lanterns hanging from hooks on the walls. There was a door on the other side, but it was closed.

Taking a position before it, Greenvale raised his hands high, palms toward the door and then slowly lowered them on either side. Everyone else seemed impressed by something, but the only interesting thing Onie saw what was behind the door.

It was a workroom, large with two center pillars and three other doors on the far walls. It was full of shelves and counters along the walls with a few big tables and some cleared areas of floor. Greenvale told them it was the Adept Mages' workroom and it was cluttered with a wide collection of stuff, though the floor was swept and everything seemed to have a place. There were hanging lanterns on the walls and pillars, and light reflected from the whitewashed ceiling and the parts of the walls not covered with bookshelves and maps. It did not smell like a typical workshop. Along with the herbs and paper and burnt cloth, there was a scent that was out of place for a below-ground room, making the air taste like it did after a rain storm . . . . a lightning storm.

Greenvale led Onie over to an open space and directed her to stand in the middle of a chalked pattern on the floor. Karrin and Nyle set up their small table and stools and started writing on fresh parchments. Luba pulled up her own stool and sat with them to watch. Greenvale finished the chalk pattern, 'sealing her in'.

Onie spent the next two candlemarks standing in the pattern while Greenvale and Breein waved their arms at her. They had notably different styles. Greenvale preferred wide, sweeping gestures, his hanging sleeves waving with the motion. Breein relied on quick thrusts, grimaces and the occasionally audible, 'Aah!' and 'Ooh!'. They both spoke magic words at her as well, but Onie rarely heard any words she recognized and some of the grunts and throat-tearing noises did not sound like any language she had ever heard of.

While this happened around her, Onie got to look the room over. There was a shelf with a row of skulls arranged from smallest to largest and Onie was not sure what creatures they all were. One large cabinet of polished blond wood was nothing but small drawers with brass knobs. She could not read the labels in the little slots on the drawers, but it seemed reasonable that they contained more kinds of herbs than she knew of since there were mortar and pestles on the counter next to it along with bundles of dried plants, in baskets and hanging from hooks on the wall. There were bookshelves, floor to ceiling, crammed with every kind of volume, old and tattered, gold inlaid and new, with large rocks and small statues of wood, stone and even cast metal propping up some of the books. A top shelf was full of only scrolls.

A basin, like the ones in the Collegium kitchen occupied one corner along with buckets and barrels and shelves of bowls, wood, stone, ceramic and metal, along with other utensils that could have been used for cooking, but Onie was quite sure no one made any meals in this place, nor was there any scents of anything that she would call food. But one of the most amazing things was the shelf of crystals, large and round, faceted and carved into shapes, many of them animals. They glinted with multiple hues; there was a whole jar of purple ones. There were shelves of jars of not so pleasant looking things soaking in different colored liquids, too. Wooden cabinets with doors closed and one short shiny one clad in metal. Mirrors on stands. Something large in another corner draped in black velvet. Shelves of unrecognizable tools made of bone, wood, metal, wire. Spools of many colors of string and cord. Rolled up animal hides and furs. Empty cages, inlaid boxes and chests with heavy metal bands and visible locks.

There were plenty of intriguing things to see and wonder about, and none of it was placed carelessly; even if Onie did not know what it was, she could see it all had some kind of order. There were no loose bits or trash lying about on the tables or floor.

When Greenvale and Breein finally gave up their arm-waving, they went to the note-takers to lean over, correct and point at the scribing work.

"Is ye done, wit' me?

Greenvale barely looked up from Nyle's page.

"For now. Don't - - - "

Onie took a few

" - - - leave the - - - aaah!" Greenvale and Breein both jumped back. Nyle dropped his pen, making a messy black splotch on the page.

Sniff. Sniff. "Is they somethin' burnin'?" A wisp of smoke too close to her alerted Onie to where it was.

She threw herself to the ground and rolled on the burning hem of her split skirt. Years of working in a kitchen had taught her what to do if anything on her caught fire. And for all her faults, Cook Tamira was vigilant about demanding that everyone in her domain know what to do and not do when something was burning when it shouldn't be.

Breein leapt forward with a yell and a furious outbreak of hand-waving with Greenvale diving past him, Mage-words flung toward the circle. Onie caught a glimpse of what looked like blue sparks before they fell to the ground and disappeared.

"Oh." She sat up and Breein knelt, looking for injuries. She had to take off her boots (the soles of them were warm) to show him that she had not been burnt. Kneeling with the younger Mage, Greenvale shook his head in shared amazement at the un-marred skin on her legs and knees. After putting her boots back on, she let them help her up and Greenvale grabbed her arm in a tight grip.

"If a Mage draws a circle, Onie, don't cross it." He let go. She nodded, a bit embarrassed. She could not see how she could have known that crossing his circle was something bad, since he didn't say anything about it, but she still felt like she could have been more careful. They went to the table and the Mages and Healers added more comments to their notes. Onie looked down at whole list of spells that had been tried, a lot of them had foreign sounding names, but some were fairly ordinary, 'Darkness' and 'Throat Close'. They were also separated into categories, 'imperative', 'illusion', 'geas', and more with a lot of cross-outs, notes and scribbles on Nyle's pages. He would have to re-write it all to make it look neat.

Greenvale told Breein to erase the old circle - which he did with some ceremony - and create a new one. When it was nearly done, they had her step in it again and they started over, but this time they used magical 'tool'. Waved wands and staffs with crystals in them. White and black cords, laid on the floor all around the circle or wound around the wrists of the Mages, separately and tying them together at the wrist. Candles that flared. Crystals bigger than Onie's fist. Incense burners. Silver metal balls spun around in Greenvale's nimble fingers. They even sprinkled her with water. Nothing happened and they gave up a lot sooner than they did with the other tests. But this time Onie waited for Breein to make a 'door' in his chalked circle before leaving it.

After reviewing their notes Greenvale excused Luba, Karrin and Nyle and told them to meet in Tilly's office after midday meal. But he stopped Nyle from taking his satchel and parchments.

We'll be taking our own notes for this." He nodded to the older Mage and Onie.

"I'll tell Cook that you can't come."

"Don' envy ye tha' task." Someone not showing up for their chores was one of the many things that put Cook Tamira in a bad mood.

He grinned back. "I can handle Cook. I've been watching you." The three left and Greenvale did not speak until the door was closed.

"Breein, please get the key."

Onie's eyes followed him as he went to a large cabinet of reddish wood with lines of sigils down the front of the doors. Greenvale watched her watching him.

There were lots of boxes stacked on shelves inside the cabinet, some painted in colorful patterns. Most wood, a few metal, faded and tarnished, except for one small gleaming box that looked like gold. There were cylinders, metal and cloth, leather-bound books, some carved poles, standing in the middle. Breein took one plain box of gray wood and closed the cabinet on all the other more interesting things.

Reverently holding it with both hands, he came back and held it up. Geenvale passed his hands over it and closed his eyes. Then he lifted the lid and took out a key. Nodding to Onie, he led her out without giving Breein a second glance. They stopped at the end of a corridor and the white-haired Mage turned to her.

"Onie, I want you to take this key, open a door and pick out the pink crystal on the table inside the room that it opens." His long face was much too serious for such a simple task as he gave her instructions on which way to go to get to the room. There had to be more to this test than he was saying.

She took the key. It was silver and solid, but less than the length of her hand. And it had a fob hanging from a little chain, set with a blue stone that glinted with a blue like a Companion's eyes, even in the yellow lamplight.

Knowing that she would get no more information from him, she turned and proceeded down the hall. He followed a few paces back, but said nothing even when she stopped and stared at him. Several turns and corridors later, Onie reached her goal. It was a door made of gray wood exactly the same color as the wall, but the texture of it was different, so it wasn't too hard to spot. And there was no handle, just a keyhole.

Sliding the key into the hole, she jiggled it. It seemed to work the same way as the lock on the door to her room in the Collegium; she turns it and it clicked into place. She pushed and it was like pushing on a wall. She pulled the key and the door opened easily, perfectly silent. She turned to Greenvale.

"Ye wants ta come in?"

He nodded, his eyes grave.

"Ye usin' ye Mage Sight on me?"

"Yes, Onie. Very much so." He stepped inside. It was a small room with a solid stone table in the center and a single lamp hanging from the ceiling.

"Aye. Is we interruptin' something'?" Onie saw Princess Elspeth and her husband, Darkwind, seated on the opposite side of the table, their eyes closed, their hands, palms down on the tabletop.

"No," Greenvale answered. "They've been waiting for us. Please close the door."

She reached around and jiggled the key out of the lock. There was a handle on the inside and she pulled it closed. It was a small room, too small for the door to swing inward. She followed Greenvale's lead and took a seat on the last of the four padded benches around the table. There was an enormous crystal sphere set into the center of the table, the biggest she had ever seen. She did not even know any so large existed. This one seemed to be part of the stone itself. And it glowed from within.

"How's it glow like'at?"

"That's Mage Light. This is the Heartstone, Onie," Greenvale answered in a hushed tone. The sounds of his words were flat, muted with no echoes or sounds from outside. It was as if they were deep inside a cave, not under the Palace.

"So, I kin see magic'in'ere?"

"No, Onie. Anyone can see Mage Light. Can you pick out the pink crystal for me?" Greenvale sat back, laid his hands on the table and closed his eyes.

There were several crystals

"Uh, they's more'in one pink one."

"Look at them all then."

Onie startled. Though she hadn't moved, Princess Elspeth had spoken.

Onie looked down. There were several crystals scattered around the central globe. She tucked the key and her spectacles away so she could look at them.

She picked up the most familiar, a piece of rose quartz. Her sister had a pendant made of rose quartz on a cord that she wore on special occasions, but this was much larger and finer. There was an opaque pink stone with small faceted parts and paler parts rough as any common stone. There was a green one with a shimmering surface and shaped like an egg laid from an enormous chicken. A pair of matched yellowish squares. A blue, faceted oval. A milky square. Each one of them would have been a vast treasure back in her small home town, but together they looked ordinary, still beautiful but common in the crowd. There were a few on the other side of the table, but she couldn't reach them without getting up out of her seat. It seemed rude, but Elspeth did say to look at them all.

Partially standing, she reached over the center globe and scooped up the furthest ones. She held each one up, looking at the overhead lantern through the stones. Green. Pale yellow. Purple. And Pink. Then she paused. Did they want her to look at the globe in the center of the table? She leaned close and touched the smooth surface; it felt smoother than glass, but not cold. She could see Darkwind's distorted face through it.

"Thank-you."

Onie jumped and fell back in her seat at the sound of Elspeth's voice again.

"That will be all," Greenvale told her, as still as the others. Onie hastily got up and nodded to them - - a useless gesture since the three Mages had their eyes closed - - before grasping the door handle and leaving. Outside in the hallway, it clicked softly, neatly flush to the wall when she pushed it closed. It was beautifully crafted, swinging smoothly, effortlessly, with no squeaks at all.

After thinking a moment, she was able to re-trace her steps down the different hallways and back up the stairs to the ground level. Fortunately, there were useful landmarks, like a shield on a wall and tapestries, and even a statue in an alcove. Passing servants glanced her way and at her Herald-Trainee uniform, but did not question what she was doing there. Coming out into the chill air, she looked toward the Collegium, but even though she was hungry, eating there was not very appetizing. But they were all supposed to meet in Tilly's office anyway . . .

Onie knew that anyone in those offices could ask the servants to bring them food from the Palace kitchen. It would be much nicer meal without Cook Tamira glowered her way, like she was a slacker after missing her kitchen duty. She headed back inside. But when she got to Tilly's office, it was locked. Disappointed, she looked around and saw no one to ask, but she could see Dean Teren's office door ajar down the hallway. Peeking inside, she found him at his desk, a plate of food on a stack of books next to him. He looked up.

"Oh, Onie. Wasn't Greenvale testing you this morning while Tilly was busy?"

"Aye, but they's done fer now. We was s'posed ta meet in Tilly's office, but there's no one there."

"Oh, well, they probably haven't got back from the House of Healing."

"Aye? Why's they there? They was speakin' afore tha Queen, wasna they?"

"Oh, yes. And quiet successfully for Lady Delias." He sat back, grinning. "She apparently has a friend in the City Guards and they were able to track down one of Lord Drogon's rangers who had come to Haven. The Benryles had bribed him and his partner to look the other way when he put down a settlement inside Drogon's borders. But at the end of the year, Tomet Benryle didn't feel like paying them anymore; he killed one, but the other got away. He couldn't go to Drogon since he'd taken bribes, so he came down river to Haven. Lady Delias's friend found him living on the charity of one of the Temples. And Benryle confessed to his crime under truth spell." Teren shook his head. "It's going to be a big mess for the Queen. He showed no remorse at all; he could be executed, but he's still the son of a Lord."

"Aye, s'pose that'd be a problem, fer'sure. But how's it that they's gone ta tha House'a'Healin?"

"Gunnar Thintry and Tilly were the Heralds who first ruled on the land dispute between Drogon and Benryle. Tilly was prepared to testify for both of them, but Gunnar had researched Benryle's questionable land disputes with his neighbors for the past four generations. It seems to be a family practice to try and expand their holdings by encroaching on their neighbors. Gunnar arranged to have himself carried in, sitting up, in his formal Whites, on a stretcher. I heard it was quite dramatic. Benryle will proably lose land when the Queen gives her final ruling." He sighed, looking guilty. "I wish I could have seen it. I've only seen Gunnar a couple of times since he returned. I didn't really know what to say . . . " he bowed his head. "Gunnar's a good man. Too young to die; much too young."

"Aye."

Teren looked, apparently remembering that she was still there. "Yes. . . . they're probably still at the House of Healing. I'm sure you can find Tilly there." She agreed and left.

The Healer-Trainee at the desk in the anteroom looked highly disapproving of 'another' visitor for Gunnar Thintry, but he'd seen Onie before and let her pass. Beyond the rows of other patients (some of them looking curiously toward the gathering), there was a crowd gathered around Thintry's curtained off bed. There was Lady Delias, wearing one of the new gowns that Chellie had worked so hard on; it was simple but fit her figure very well, her red hair, styled with silver combs and bright against the velvety blue fabric. She stood next to Tilly in a bright set of formal Whites. Korey, in a formal City Guard uniform with just a little bit of silver at the neck and sleeves stood on the other side of the sick man's bed with Chellie who wore a brick red dress, a matching, embroidered scarf tied over her dark hair, that refused to grow fast enough to suit her.

The guest of honor was propped up, completely dressed in an immaculate set of formal Whites, even boots. But the fine fabric hung loosely on his now thin arms; his pants loose on his middle; they might have fallen off if he could stand. The smile on his face was warm and genuine, but it was still spoiled by his sallow, gray cheeks.

"Onie!" Chellie ran to her and gave her a tight hug. "We won! And Benryle's going to gaol. And Gunnar here helped us. He was able to show that the Benryles have been trying to cheat people out of there land for years."

"Aye, I heared." She hugged Chellie back. "Dean Teren says ye's was tha King'o'tha'Festival."

Gunnar shook his head and extended a hand to the Sergeant. "I was only a minor act to the drama that Korey here led when he brought in Drogon's missing ranger." He gestured to his other side. "And Tilly here cast the Truth Spell on Tomet." He rolled his eyes upward and settled back on his pillows. "I am very glad that I did not know that in the field. I would not have wanted to pass judgement on him there. We probably would have had to take him back to Haven as our prisoner to keep Drogon from beheading him there on the spot."

"Your help is still most welcome, Herald," Delias assured him, her hand on his shoulder and he grinned up at her, clearly happy to receive her praise. "My father will be very interested in the history you presented about the Benryles, those thieves."

"Just don't forget to remind him about his own misdeeds, Milady in that history," he reminded her, "he would be doing the Heralds who cross his lands a favor if he would hand down justice that was a little less rough. I asked the Queen herself to remind him of that when she sends him her judgement."

"The word of the Queen on that, will speak much more loudly to him that anything I might say. I'm only his daughter. Her words might actually penetrate his thick head. And if it does not, then Mother will have the Queen's words to remind him. So, I must thank you again, Herald."

He patted her slender hand. "Gunnar," he reminded. She leaned closer and repeated his name in a much more playful tone. Korey rolled his eyes upward.

Chellie did not seem to notice the flirting; she grabbed a pamphlet of folded pages and thrust them toward Onie. "Look at all the work he did for us. Delias is going to send these up to Lord Drogon with her letter."

"Those are just the notes," Thintry told them. "The Queen has the good copy. And I didn't write that anyway, the clerks did it. I just told them what the words were."

Onie took her spectacles off to look over the neatly written lettering.

"Oh, aye." She stopped and put her spectacles back on. Digging into her pocket, she pulled out the silver key that Breein had given her. "I forgots they give this ta me." She held it up, the jewel swinging on the end of the chain bright blue in daylight. It had to be a sapphire.

"Aaaaaaaahhhhh!"

Onie dropped the pages and almost the key. Everyone froze, shocked into total silence by the mindless terror in Tilly's scream.

Her eyes wide in horror, she pointed. "Where . . . . where did you get THAT?"

"Uh, uh - - "

Tilly stumbled toward her away from Thintry's weak grasp, "Tilly." he called, but she did not hear him.

"What. Are. You. Doing. With. THAT?" Onie backed up a pace. Tilly's face had gone mad with terror; it did not even look like her anymore, she was so changed.

"Oh, they give it ta me ta open tha door - - "

"The door - the door - you opened THA DOOR?" her voice went shrill. "You opened the door?" He tone suddenly went low, threatening. "Get rid of it. Get it back. Give-it-back. Give-it-back. Now-now-NOW!" Her hands were shaking. Korey came around Thintry's bed, but stayed out of reach of the suddenly crazed Herald.

Onie held out the key. "I's sorry. I didn't mean'a'keep it - - "

But Tilly jumped back as if she was offering her fire.

"No, no, no, no, NO! Don't touch it! Take it back. Take it back. Take-it-back-take-it-back!" She was gibbering again and Onie started to move back the way she came. Healers and Healer-Trainees were converging on them, on Tilly.

"No! Get away from me!" She grabbed her hair as if she would tear it out. "Get that out of here! Take-it-back-take-it-back! TAKE-IT-BACK!"

Onie moved faster. The patients in their beds stared as they passed. The Healers tried to stop her, but she fought back. One Healer got an elbow in the stomach, another a slap across the throat, but Tilly did not slow down enough to do much damage.

People called out as they passed in the halls, but they drew back when Tilly cursed and spit at them. Onie pushed through the outer doors and then came to a quick halt on the steps. A Companion blocked her way.

Molry.

Onie never thought she would ever see such anger in a Companion's eyes. Or that it would be aimed at her. Frozen in place, her throat tightened, unable to utter another apology for still having the key.

Tilly came spilling out of doors behind her and fell down hard on her knees on the stone steps.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm-sorry-I'm-sorry-I'm-sorry," she repeated over and over again, pleading up to Molry, tears rolling down her cheeks, her face crumpled in misery. But Molry stayed still as a statue, her eyes focused on Onie.

Sapphire eyes narrowing, she lowered her large head.

 _Take it back._

 _Now._

Onie ran all the way back to the Palace.

* * *

 **\- - - End Part 14**


	15. Chapter 15

**GROUNDLING 4: TRANSITIONS**

by ardavenport

 **\- - - Part 15**

* * *

Still breathing hard, Onie stopped herself from making a wrong turn at a tapestry of a hunting party of men on foot with spears confronting an enormous stag.

Looking in both directions, she forced herself to think. Going to her left she recognized a shield on a wall down another corridor and hurried her steps. Down a flight of stairs and a couple of turns later she reached the door to the Mage's workroom. She fast-walked the rest of the way to the Heartstone room, the key clutched in her hand. Were they still inside? Would she have to go find them to give the key back and apologize?

She shoved the key into the lock, turned it, pulled the door open and took the key with her. The lantern was still lit; Greenvale, Elspeth and Darkwind still seated on the benches around the stone table. Onie lifted her hand with the key.

"I's forgots I's - - "

Onie smelled smoke.

Whirling around, she dove out of her winter cloak that she had not taken off in her haste. Casting it down, she stomped hard on the flames that had suddenly appeared. They were a little stubborn, but she succeeded in smothering them. Then she backed up, almost into the stone table and away from the blue glow around the door. A blue spark drifted onto her hand, a pinprick of warmth, but she flicked it away. The glow faded and Onie turned back to the Mages.

The room reeked with a haze of burnt wool.

She held up the key. A meager defense.

"I's forgots I has this."

The three Mages stared at the key, none speaking or offering to take it.

"Uh, I'll put it here, fer ye." She laid the key down on the empty bench. Gathering up her cloak, she gulped and pointed. "I's goin'ta go out now."

Elspeth gave her a minimal nod, but otherwise remained unmoving. Onie went out and then pushed the door closed. Then she backed away from the gray door, feeling worse than she had when she came. She left.

Lillis was waiting for her outside and Onie went to her.

"I think I done somethin' really bad. Worse'n'what happened wit' Luba. An' I don' think it matters if I didna mean it."

Lillis did not disagree with her and Onie's throat tightened again. She touched her head to Lillis and they stood together in the cold air. Sunlight peeked through scattered clouds above, but it brought no warmth.

"I thinks I should tell Tilly I return'd tha key." She walked toward the House of Healing but when she came in sight of the door, she did not see anyone there. "Ye knows where she is?"

Lillis looked away. Then toward Companion's Field.

"Ye don' needs ta come. I's tha one who hurts'er." But Lillis shook her head and unable to argue Onie went to a low stone wall so she could climb onto Lillis's back and they went out to Companion's Field together.

Molry and Tilly stood together by a copse of evergreens and bare bushes, their backs to Onie and Lillis. Onie was sure that they could not have missed hearing Lillis approach. She climbed down, but stayed next to Lillis and waited.

It was a long time, the sun was getting low in the sky before Tilly finally turned her head.

"Did you take the key back?" Her voice was normal again.

"Aye."

"Did you give it to Greenvale?"

"Uuuh . . ."

Tilly's head turned toward her, then the rest of her.

"I puts it back on tha bench at tha table I was at."

Tilly's brow furrowed. "The table?"

"With tha Heartstone on'it."

Her eyes went wide. "The Heartstone?" she whispered.

"Tha's wha' they calls it. Big round crystal, big'as'me head. Didna know theys make'em tha' big. It glows in'a middle," she added, "but they says anyone kin see'it, bein' Mage Light an'all."

"They took you there?"

"Na, they gives me tha key, an' tells me where it'is an' I goes there an' opens tha door and Princess Elspeth an' Darkwind is there already an' Greenvale follows an' we all sit down and they asks me ta look'at all'a crystals on tha table, an it's real quiet there, but they don' say nothin' and just sits'ere with they hands on'a table an'ere eyes closed like they's watchin' me wit'out lookin' somehow, an' tha' goes on fer a'bit . . . an' . . . an' then I leaves . . . an' . . . I forgets I still have'tha key in me pocket," she finished, hoping that the story would make her feel better.

She blinked, blank-faced with none of her usual spark when she heard or saw something new.

"And then you . . . you went back . . . to return the key. . . " Tilly stared at nothing in front of her. Molry turned around and muzzled Tilly's shoulder, but she did not react. The Companion gave Onie a one-eyed sapphire glare and glancing to her side, Onie saw Lillis lower her head and turn away.

"Did you just . . . . open the door . . . and go in to return the key?"

"Uh, aye."

"And . . . nothing happened?" Tilly still did not look back at her, staring at nothing, or perhaps seeing something that only she could see, like she was still crazed, but in a calm way.

"Well . . . me cloak caught on fire when I come in." She tilted her head and moved her hand under some of the black scorch marks on her gray cloak.

"Oh . . . " Tilly's voice rose in a slow motion reaction to this revelation. "Were you burned?"

"Oh, no," Onie assured her with confidence. "I throws it off an' stamps it right out wit' me boots. I works in a kitchen an' I know whats ta do wit' fire. But . . . " she hesitated, less sure. " . . . tha room could be aired out. T'werena much burnin', but it'was still a bit smoky in'ere when I left."

Tilly tilted her head. "But you weren't burned? Not even a little warm?"

"Uh, nooooo . . . I puts it out quick . . . like I did afore . . . when I walked across Greenvale's circle, but that was only tha hem'a me skirt."

"So, . . . you did it before?"

"Uh, . . . aye."

"You walked across a warding boundary." She lowered her eyes, but her voice rose up to an un-hinged high.

"Well, he didna say what'is circle uz fer. An-an' it was jus' chalk on'a floor so I didna think it'uz special. An' there werena na circle in'a Heartstone room . . . 'cept, I guess tha whole room is'a circle . . . it's, uh, round . . . " her excuses sounded lame as soon as the words were spoken.

Tilly put her hands to her head at her temples; Molry took a step closer to her, snuffling her hair. Then she started trembling and for a horrible moment, Onie thought she was crying again . . . but then the chuckling became more obvious. Tilly clutched her middle and Molry nickered. She bent over and she laughed louder and louder. Onie could not disagree that she did not deserve it, but after a while it started getting annoying.

Wiping her eyes, Tilly finally looked at her.

"You're a menace, Onie Thatcher!" she suddenly shouted and Onie jumped back. "You're lucky you didn't incinerate the entire Palace!"

"Uh, could it do'at? Tha Heartstone?"

"I don't know," she threw her hands up. "The way they talk about the Heartstone, they make it sound like it could."

"So . . . " Onie took a cautious step closer, " . . . ye's feelin' better now?"

Her shoulders slumped. "Yes, I'm feeling better. No thanks to you."

"I didna mean ta forget I has'it," she answered defensively. "An I don' know why I's s'pose'ta knows 'bout Mage stuff tha' they don' tell me about. If it tha' key so important tha' ye goes crazy when ye sees it they's no excuse fer'em na saying somethin' 'bout it afore they's gives it ta me." Onie's tone rose to an aggrieved shout at the end, but she was very glad to see Tilly back to normal.

"I did not go crazy," the Herald denied.

Onie and Lillis exchanged looks and they both nodded. "Aye, ye was crazy."

Tilly looked at Molry and she nodded, too.

"All right, yes, I was crazy. But there is a geas on that key to keep anybody who's not supposed to have it from taking it. And if you weren't so dense, you would have been writhing on the floor, just from touching it."

"Why's they's makes it so dang'rous when they already keeps it locked away? Tha' aren't so nice."

Tilly's shoulders slumped. "It probably doesn't do that to anyone without a Gift. It probably just makes them think it's ugly or worthless and makes them want to get rid of it. It probably only has a bad effect on anyone Gifted who's not supposed to have it."

That surprised Onie. "Why's ye na s'posed'ta have it? Ye's a Mage."

"I'm a Master Mage, Onie," Tilly explained through tight lips. "Only adepts are allowed to work with the Heartstone."

"Oh. Didna' know they was such a diff'rence."

"Yes, Onie, it is a big difference." She sighed. "They probably put on a little extra on that key, just for me."

"Why's 'at?"

Staring back at her, Tilly looked stricken again. She turned to her Companion and stroked her cheek; Molry nodded and Tilly closed her eyes for a long moment.

"I was Chosen when I was ten," she looked into sapphire eyes as she spoke. "Molry swept in and Chose me and took me away from my father and his horrible family. And I never looked back. Molry rescued me from . . . all that." She turned to Onie.

"She took me here. As near to any heaven I could asked for. At the Collegium I was always top of my class. I even knew more than some of my teachers sometimes. And I was Gifted. And they trained me in my Mage Gift, my Earth Sense and my Weather Foresight." She sighed and closed her eyes before going on.

"And then when I was fifteen, Elspeth and Firewing and the others in the Adept Circle told me that I would only be a Master Mage. That I couldn't go any further. How does anyone tell a girl when she's fifteen that she just can't be something?" she demanded without waiting for an answer.

"Of course, I didn't believe. I was smarter than they were - - I still am - - I was going to prove them wrong. I worked hard; I studied everything I could, not just Mage work. And when I was sixteen . . . ."

"They told me the same thing, that I would never be anything more than a Master. And they told me that I should be happy with that. I was the best student the Collegium had in years. And being an Adept isn't what it used to be; all the large accumulations of magical energy were wiped out in the Mage Storms anyway. I could be a Herald Scholar. And I had three Gifts, not just one. Four if you count Mind Speech. Do you know how patronizing that is?" she demanded and again did not wait for Onie to answer.

"So, I worked for another year, getting better at everything, my classes, weapons, fighting, riding . . . and Mage Craft. When I was seventeen they told me the same thing. I would only be a Master. They wouldn't even let me take the test," she exclaimed, the long ago offense coming back in her near-shout. "They said there was no point to it. That I could be hurt. That I should be happy with what I was. Even Molry said that." She turned back to her Companion and wiped her eyes.

"So I decided I was going to prove them wrong. I was going to show them. I was going to go to the Heartstone myself and show them that I could handle the larger magics. So, I stole the key to the room," she admitted.

"Aye? How's ye do tha'? They had it hidden in'a box in'ere workroom. Didna look easy ta find if ye didna know where is was."

Smiling Tilly waved that problem aside. "Hawkbrother Mages are always full of themselves. And they love to show off, especially to fawning young students who begs them to see the key. Just to look at. And it was even easier to switch it when he wasn't looking." She shook her head. "I'm sure that's why they strengthened the wards on it."

"So, you seen tha Heartstone, then?"

Tilly stared back and her eyes looked to the distance again, into a memory just past Onie's left shoulder. "I meant to. I was going to use it the night I got it. But I took it out to look at it; I was so proud of what was going to do . . . "

"So - so ye used it?" Onie prompted after a long pause.

"I meant to. But I looked at that sapphire that's attached to it. And all I could see were Molry's eyes. And it came to me all at once, how badly I was betraying her, all the Companions, the Heralds, Valdemar. That if I did this, I was betraying them . . . worse than anything my father ever did to me." Her eyes teared up, her voice going weak and she lifted a hand to Molry's chin.

"I just called out to her and begged her to forgive me over and over again. I couldn't move; I just huddled in my hiding place. Until somebody came and got me; there was Elspeth and the Mages and Dean Teren. One of them took the key. I never wanted to look at it again. They took me to my room and Molry stayed with me, in my mind, said I had done well, that I had done the right thing in the end and that was all that mattered. It took her all night to convince me."

She looked up at Onie this time, not past her. "The next day they sent me out on circuit. With Gunnar. Nobody said a word about what I'd done. At least not to me.

"And the next few years, I found out what a real father is supposed to be like. He taught me how to be a Herald. And I liked circuit; I was good at it. And Gunnar and I were good together. Except I could never get enough books to read, traveling around to all those small villages; there would never be much there. But Gunnar made sure that I learned things that you don't learn from books.

"And after two years, when we returned to Haven to turn in our latest reports, Gunnar went to the Mage Circle and told them that they were all idiots and that they should never have denied me the chance to try and that they should let me take their test right then. Fortunately, they didn't. They gave me half a moon to prepare."

"Did ye pass?"

Tilly gave Onie one of her looks, the one that said she could not believe that she had ever been Chosen. "No, Onie, I failed. I'm still a Master Mage. I got my ass kicked." She threw her hands up and let them fall to her sides. "They were right; it was pretty dangerous." She smiled and pinched the front of her formal Herald's uniform. "But I earned my Whites taking it. So, it wasn't a complete failure."

"Oh." A few fat flakes of snow drifted down. The sky had clouded over and it was getting dark.

Tilly relaxed again. "And you just tripped in there, setting your clothes on fire, through every protective magics the Adepts could lay out . . . what did they say? When you did that."

"Didna say nothin'. Just stared at me. Tha's why I lef' tha key on the seat where I'd been sittin' when I was there afore'."

"Well, what did their faces look like?"

Onie cringed. "Kinda - kinda like I walks ina tha' privy on'em."

Tilly laughed out loud, slapping her thigh. "Ha-ha-ha! I wish I could have seen that." She continued laughing and to Onie's relief, Molry turned a kinda gaze toward her.

"Wait." Tilly straightened. "Did they write all this down?"

"Uh, they did in'tha workroom. Nyle an' Karrin wrote down everythin' they did. But . . . I didna see'em doin' any writin' in'a room wit' that Heartsone."

"Of course not." She sighed. "I'll wring it out of them later."

They both turned at the sound of bridle bells and faintly chiming hoofbeats rapidly approaching them. They could still make out the two Companions galloping toward them in the gloom.

"Gunnar!" Tilly ran to meet them. It was Seekar and Hyer, with Bron Childorn holding Gunnar Thintry in front of him in the saddle. Tilly held her arms up to help him down, but instead, Seekar, who was saddled in his formal tack, blue leather with silver bridle bells, pressed his body to Hyer's side so that Bron could shift Thintry to the other Companion's back.

"You're a bag of bones, Herald," Bron complained when one of Thintry's limp legs got caught in the transfer.

"Not quite yet, old man." Eyes closed, he slumped forward over the pommel, over Seekar's neck. "There's still just enough life left in me . . . for one more thing." Exhaling deeply as if he had just finished running a race, he opened his eyes again. "Thank-you, for your help."

Bron just shrugged. "I couldn't say no, could I? Onie!" he turned his head toward his as the two Companions separated. "We need to go, now!"

"Aye?" Lillis nosed her in the side and lowered herself to the ground. Onie climbed on her back and Bron took off even before Lillis has completely climbed to her feet again. They raced across the Field in the twilight. Onie hanging on with her knees, but it was hardly necessary. She felt completely secure on Lillis's back now. In fact it felt even more natural without the saddle.

They raced across the bridge and then stopped at palace end of it.

"What's we doin' here?"

"We are keeping those cursed Healers who think that everyone has to die in their beds from coming after Thintry."

Onie saw a collection of lanterns in the gloom, coming in their direction from the House of Healing.

"I didna know ye knew'im."

"Thintry? No, I don't know him at all. I never met him. I only saw him once when you set off that disaster with Tilly and that Healer in the Field. But Seekar knew that Hyer and I would help them without asking any questions." He pinned Onie with a hard, blue-eyed glare, just like his Companion's. "It's rare when a person knows when it's their time to die and can go to it with their eyes forward. Both Hyer and I have been forced to pass that up." He patted Hyer neck; his Companion threw his head back and snorted. "We will go together when it's our time. And we won't stand by and see it denied to someone else."

"Oh." Onie nodded. "Ye sure it's'is time?"

"You saw him. He had a good day as a Herald today. There's no point in taking another half-moon to gasp out his last breath getting as sick from the Healer's herbs as he is from the disease that's killing him."

Lillis and Hyer took positions blocking the foot of the bridge and when the group of Healers nearly reached them, Bron drew a sword - - Onie had not even realized that he had it. Hyer reared up and whinnied his own challenge. The snow fell a little heavier around them and Onie brushed it off her hair and shoulders.

The group of Healers hastily backed up.

"Your business with Gunnar Thintry is done. Let him die in peace."

"To freeze to death, out in the open?" One tall, thin Healer in a dark cloak stepped forward.

"You're not offering him a better death than that. So, unless you're hiding a cure under that robe, you can go back to your House to the people you can help."

Hyer reared up again, pawing the air and the Healer almost tripped over his hem scrambling back in the snow. More people ran toward them from the Palace. And Companions from the stable. The Healers appealed to the arriving Heralds, who did not seem to know who they should be helping. Onie stayed behind Hyer, not sure who she should be helping either, but Lillis seemed to know and Onie trusted her.

Herald Talia, the Queen's Own, finally arrived and Rolan, her Companion, trotted forward, forcing everyone to make a path for him. Talia came forward, limping slightly on her bad leg, injured in a long ago war. She came right up to Hyer as if daring him to rear up again, but he did not. Bron leaned forward to speak softly with her and Onie only caught a few words, 'Tilly', 'Gunnar', 'Healers'. But the real decision was made when Rolan calmly stepped forward to stand beside Hyer, joining him in blocking the bridge. Talia backed up away from them and then went to the Healers. They were audibly not happy, but half of them started to leave. Some of them kept pleading with Talia to let them pass to go to Thinty. The snow fell a little heavier; a thin, fresh layer of it coating everything.

But the argument ended when they all heard the Death Bell ringing out from Companion's Field. The Heralds and Companions all bowed their heads. Bron sheathed his sword and the rest of the Healers turned away. The others filed away slowly as well, even Talia, but Rolan remained. The Death Bell rang for a long time. But when it finally stopped, Molry, with Tilly riding, appeared and walked across the bridge. Rolan, Lillis and Hyer backed up to let her pass. She stopped between them, her face blank, a film of fresh snow dusting her hair.

"He went to the Grove," she shook her head as if to clear it. "He was smiling and he looked almost young again. And-and it was light. And he looked at it and said, "Thank-you." Tilly shook her head again and touched her temple. "And then he was gone. Into the light." They all bowed their heads. Molry and Hyer walked toward the Stable, carrying Tilly and Bron with them. But Lillis paused.

Rolan faced Onie with a long hard stare, his white coat still standing out bright in the gloom. He kept perfectly still, apparently not wanting to say anything to her and she could not tell what he was thinking. She finally shrugged and brushed more snow off her shoulders, the top of her head. Then she pulled out the hood of her cloak and put it on.

Rolan shook the snow off him, then turned and trotted across the bridge, back to Companion's Field. Lillis took Onie back to the stable.

* * *

 **\- - - End Part 15**


	16. Chapter 16

**GROUNDLING 4: TRANSITIONS**

by ardavenport

 **\- - - Part 16**

* * *

Onie and Chellie emerged from the House of Healing. The sun had come out, shining brightly on the snow leftover from the past several days' weather. It still was not a lot of snow, not so that it was difficult for the Palace servants to keep the paths clear, but winter was in the air; Winter Festival was less than half a moon away.

They had just spent the last candlemark listening to Healer Morlin and his assistant explain how they would remove the last of Chellie manliness on the first moon after Winter Festival. There were a lot of finely crafted metal instruments, special knives and tiny tubes that would allow Chellie to pass water until she was Healed. Even the gruesome details could not dim Chellie's obvious enthusiasm for her goal. Onie promised to support her.

"Can I stay with you again? I mean, before I come for the surgery?"

"Aye? Why's ye wants ta? Na tha' ye's na welcome, but Munthunt House is bigger'n me room. An' I promised ta help Ressa wit'er cookin'." Onie had already had one morning session with Lady Delias's cook, since Tilly canceled all her classes for her tests on her Ground Gift, she had a little more time to go there when Tilly was busy. Ressa was going to need a lot more help if she was to produce a passable Midwinter Feast.

"Yes, I know, but, uh . . . . um . . . Herald Tilly has been visiting Lady Delias since the hearing before the Queen. At night. And . . . . they're a little noisy." Chellie shivered under her winter cloak.

Onie's brows went up. Tilly and Lady Delias . . . . ? Tilly had said nothing about it to her, but they were not really social friends, though they had established some mutual respect since the night Gunnar Thintry died.

"Hmmmm, seems a'bit rude of'em, disturbin' that house at night an'all." She grinned with a new idea. "Why don't's ye say somethin' about it ta Molry? She's prob'ly in'a Stable now. I's thinks she kin get'em ta be quieter."

A half-smile appeared on the young girl's lips. "Can you come with me?"

She shook her head. "I's gots ta go ta Tilly's meetin' wit' tha Queen. She's ta show'em wha' she's learned 'bout me Ground Gift. Since it's about me, I gots ta go. But I'm sure Lillis is in the Stable. If Molry's na there, Lillis kin help ye. Molry an' Tilly Mind Speaks all'a time. Sure she knows 'bout Delias, but she might be interested in how much noise they's makin'. An' how's they's keeping everyone else up."

Chellie's half-smile turned into a full grin. After giving Onie a big hug she headed off to Companion's Stable. Onie went the other way. Toward the Palace.

The Queen's private Council room was a smaller wood-paneled room on the first floor and there were armed guards at the doors. They let Onie enter and she tried to take a seat in a back corner so she might be less on display, but Tilly was already there and she waved her forward to sit by her at the Council table.

The arriving crowd filled every seat in the room. There was the Queen and Prince Daren. Elspeth, Darkwind and Greenvale and a couple of other Herald-Mages, plus Bron Childorn and Dean Teren. Luba and the Head of the House of Healing. White-light poured in from tall windows looking out onto a snow covered private garden. When everyone was seated and the door closed, Tilly stood.

The next few candlemarks were among the most uncomfortable of Onie's life. Before being Chosen she had never been anybody who anyone else would remark upon; just someone who grew up in town, and everybody knew her and she knew them. But she did not run for town council or own land or a shop. She had become special when Lillis came - - for a day before they left for Haven and the Collegium, where being Chosen wasn't special at all in a crowd of Heralds. She was singled out for her Ground Gift, but that did not make her special, just deficient in fighting and riding and studying in the library on the third floor, at least until Tilly came along.

Now she was trapped in a room of people who were only talking about her. Glancing toward the Queen and the Prince who listened intently and occasionally leafed through the small volume of pages that Tilly had presented to them and Elspeth, Onie wondered how they could sit through a meal at formal dinners, on a high table with everyone looking at her and talking about them.

Everyone listened as well, sometimes asking questions and flipping through pamphlets that Tilly had passed out, shortened versions of what the Queen got because the scribes had only been able copy that much. But apparently Tilly did not think that Onie might want to know what had been learned from all the Ground Gift tests. For half a candlemark, she had only the bare table to stare at while everyone talked over her before Bron passed his pamphlet down the table to her; she gave him a grateful smile in return.

The synopsis of the topic was concise and direct, just like Tilly.

She presumed that Onie had been born with a Mage Talent (possibly other Gifts) but no channels to manipulate it with. Not blocked channels as was typical for the un-Gifted, but no channels at all and no possibility of ever having them, the same conclusion that Sunwing had made not long after the Palace Mages had started testing her soon after she first arrived. Greenvale openly scoffed at the idea; why wasn't she dead if she had no channels? But he also had to admit that Onie had some magical influence (he cast a wary gaze toward her when he said that) and he did not have a better suggestion for what a Ground Gift could be.

With no channels, any magical energy inherent in her devolved to its lowest possible state, Ground. Every particle of Onie's body was infused with it making her magically 'dense' as Tilly described it. She was not resistant to magical energies, they simply flowed around her, through her like an inanimate object. Or possibly like she was not even there. And with no channels she had no control over it at all. The only evidence for it was the very subtle aural glow when her body drew strength from the ground. Tilly apparently could see it better than anyone else, presumably because of her Earth-sense, but it was still very easy to miss since it looked so much like the energy flows of ordinary life. Any part of Onie's body in contact with the ground would draw strength from it but only when her body needed it.

It also worked for any part of her body in contact with something else that was in contact with the ground (such as the soles of her boots). Tilly had spent a whole afternoon ordering Onie go to different places and stand on different things in the Collegium before that question was resolved. And Onie admitted that she had felt unwell for the first few moons when she had started working at the Ox and Cart back home, in the tavern kitchen, a room that had a storage cellar under it. But at the time, she had just attributed it to her not being used to working in a hot kitchen in summer. She got used to it. Tilly concluded that Onie's body could 'get used' to many of the things that she had trouble with. But since she had no conscious control over when her body drew strength from the ground, it would be her body - - not her mind - - that needed to be trained. That last part sounded ominous to Onie as she remembered Tilly's training for running was to have Alberich chase her in a murderous rage with live steel.

There were a lot of things that Tilly did not know:

\- - how much strength could Onie learn to draw from the ground? Probably not much more than she did now since her body did all the learning; her mind had no say in it.

\- - What had caused Onie's Ground Gift? Loose magic? A burst ley line pimple? A god hiccup? Tilly had no idea, but it was very clear that Onie's Gift was established before the Mage Storms, so it was not caused by that.

\- - Could Lillis learn to draw strength from the Ground through her bond to Onie? Unknown. But they would try.

Tilly still could not tell the Healers the question they really wanted answered: why did Luba almost die when she tried to Heal Onie? But she could intelligently speculate about it and even Greenvale agreed that her theory was a good one.

"I am sure that the key to this question is in the difference between a Healing and a Choosing. Unfortunately, the Companions were not very forthcoming in answering any of my questions about how Companion's Choice works."

The Heralds in the room chuckled at Tilly's frustrated statement. While totally loyal to Valdemar, the Companions could be a law unto themselves.

"But Molry was able to tell me one thing - - and Rolan and Lillis confirmed it - - that Choosing is an enveloping bond that first surrounds the Chosen. Healing is an entwining bond, from Healer to patient. And I think that is the critical difference. The envelopment anchored Lillis to Onie's physical body when the bond was formed.

"So, if a Mage enveloped Onie with magical energy," Darkwind speculated, "the he could affect her with magic then?"

"I doubt it," Tilly shrugged one shoulder. "Lillis is bonded to Onie and she can't even Mind Speak to her."

"That doesn't explain what happened to Luba," the Head of the House of Healing demanded.

"Every part of Onie's body is dense, magical ground. And if a Healer tried to form a bond with 'the ground'," she waved a hand toward window, "that happened to be in the shape of a human body, their minds would be spread over a vast volume of . . . ground. The shock would probably be so great that they would become untethered from their body." she leaned toward him over the table. "Which is exactly what Luba, Molry and I felt in Companion's Field."

Tilly looked over everyone else in the room in the silence that followed her statement before continuing.

"But Lillis is anchored on Onie. And she is connected to Molry, who is bonded to me, and I was melded to Luba. And that is how we were pulled out of the bottomless pit of Onie's Ground Gift that we had fallen into. So, until we investigate this further, the prohibition against any Healer touching Onie with their Gift must continue."

"But how could any Companion form a bond with 'a bottomless pit?' Dean Teren wondered out loud.

Tilly held her hands up. "The King of Hardon is magically 'bonded' to his land. It all seems to depend on how the bond is entered into." More questions came, but Queen Selenay raised her hand.

"Thank-you, Herald Tilly, for your exceptional work. You have done a great service to Valdemar." She held everyone's attention with her gaze. Someone's stomach grumbled in the silence and a corner of Selenay's mouth twitched in a suppressed smile. "I believe it is time for all of us to read her research," She touched the stack of pages before her, "and think about how this may best benefit, Onie, here." Her eyes were sympathic, "and best serve Valdemar."

Tilly held up a finger, "If I may, Selenay, give one more recommendation."

The Queen inclined her head and Tilly addressed the whole table again.

"I strongly recommend that Onie be trained in Mage Craft. At the highest levels. She has no more Talent than a rock. But she is capable of walking around with dangerous talismans for days without even her Companion being aware of it. She has walked right through the strongest wards and shields as if they were nothing more than smoke and only became aware of it because her clothes caught on fire - - ."

Elspecth, Darkwind and Greenvale cringed.

" - - twice - -."

Greenvale sank lower in his chair. Bron Childorn snickered.

"Onie must be educated in what to look for, so that if she ever has to defend Valdemar from any magical threats, she can be more of a hazard to our enemies than to us."

Onie cringed. Another class. About something that she could not see, hear or feel. And probably not taste. Where would she get the time for that with her chores, other classes and more tests from Tilly?

Dean Teren offered her some hope with a promise to 'talk to her' about her class schedule.

The long meeting finally ended and everyone got up to go. The Queen and Prince Daren took Tilly's reading assignment and left right away. Tilly lingered with the Mages. And Luba scandalized her superior by giving Onie a big hug.

"I'm not using my Gift now," she answered him cheerfully before her expression turned more serious when she face Onie. "I'm afraid you'll have to do your own Healing, at least until we work out how to deal with your Gift."

"I's promise ta work very hard na ta need any Healin'."

Luba hugged her again.

Bron stayed to congratulate her and promised that he still wanted her as his 'secretary' so he could have her magically impervious, lie-detecting Gift in any trade meetings that he was still trying to convince Selenay to let him start.

"If ye's kin get any'o'me time from them," she pointed at the Mages. "Then I will."

"Onie!" Tilly pointed at her. "I'm having midday meal brought to my office. We need to talk more about next term."

Onie sighed, but Bron just chuckled. "I'll manage it. They're only Mages."

"Aye." Onie touched her pocket where she had put a note she had received from a Palace page that morning. "Ye goin'ta be at tha meeting 'bout Law class?" It said that they should meet at first bell in the afternoon that day to discuss their class in Valdemar Law for the next term.

Bron grumbled that he had received a similar invitation. And that he had been hoping that he was done with it for good. The message had been signed by _Judge_ Benard Filamore.

Onie was concerned that Tilly's meeting-and-meal in her office (very cramped with five people in it) would make her late and that Bron might decide to not show up for whatever Filamore wanted to tell them. But Tilly did not let anyone go on too long with their suggestions about more Ground Gift tests and Bron was slouching in his chair in the front row of the Collegium lecture room when she got there.

When the bell rang, Filamore appeared promptly, resplendent in his new Judges robes. And right behind him was Tilly. She carried a tray loaded with small books that she laid on the desk. Then she took up a prim position behind Filamore without making eye contact with anyone.

Filamore announced, in his largest voice, that with his new duties, he would only have time to tutor the most worthy and scholarly (non-Herald) students at the Colleguim. Then he introduced the new instructor for the Herald-Trainees for the next term.

"Herald Til- -" He caught himself just in time. "Uh, Tilly." Filamore lavished praise on her for her pure genius when she had been a student in his classes, her deep understanding of the Laws of Valdemar and her experience as a Herald in the field on circuit. He gave Childorn a cross look when he said the last part.

Then Tilly introduced herself and gave them their first assignment. From the tray she passed out the field books to all the students; they were supposed to read them over the holiday and when they resumed class they would 'discuss everyone's questions' and 'find out how much everyone had learned." But she excluded Onie and Bron, both slouching in their seats in front, until the very end.

She handed one well-worn book to Bron, "It was Gunnar's" she told him. Surprised, he took it and held it almost reverently. "I haven't thanked you for helping him that night." She paused. The rest of the class, having gotten their books, were leaving, along with Filamore.

"I did not want to lose him, but . . . I did not want him to die badly, either."

"Neither did he," Bron agreed. He held the book up as if swearing an oath. "I know I can learn a lot from this."

"And this one, Onie." Tilly turned to her, the emotional moment passing. "Is mine."

Surprised, Onie took it. Tilly folded her arms over her chest and appraised her.

"Uh, thank-ee," she said a little uncertainly, but knowing that she was still, at least in some ways, Tilly's project.

She just shook her head. "Just take good care of it."

Onie nodded.

"And Onie . . . don't let it catch on fire."

* * *

 **\- - - End - - -**

* * *

 **Disclaimer:** This is a derivative fiction of the Valdemar Universe under Creative Commons license. No measurable monetary profit or compensation for this writer, but lots of fun (which is really what fanfiction is all about anyway). The Valdemar Universe belongs to Mercedes Lackey.


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